Crimson Red: Let the Games Begin
by copaceticbaby
Summary: Crimson Red: Let the Games Begin The same thing happens every year. Every year 24 children are called to their death to play these games. And every year you always see it. You always see that Crimson Red. 24 author 24 tribute collaboration.
1. Prelude

Prelude

A/N: Hello readers! This is going to be a 24 author 24 tribute collaboration! If you are interested go to my profile to sign up! I know this is short but I needed a way to get the ball rolling.

Head Gamemaker Castor Fleet

Many Hunger Games have come and gone but mine will certainly be the best yet. Not only because of the twists and turns but because of the arena itself. It is nothing more than a school. A school with deadly hallways where a new horror lurk. There are also no traditional weapons just the supplies found in the school. I'm hoping the paper cutters will be put to good use. The only thing the cornucopia will hold is food.

I suspect it to be a marvelous year.


	2. District 1

**District One**

**POV: Aitou Tsanua **(Little miss innocent liar)

I was walking along the streets, walking towards the academy. I always liked this time of the morning, it was quiet, peaceful even. I always the morning sun hit the stone of the career academy building. Taking in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp morning air and breathing out of my mouth so I could see a faint puff of smoke. A grin drew it's a way to my face as I walked to the academy on a chilly morning.

I reached the academy building, letting myself in and taking off my coat and scarf. I stopped for a moment when I heard someone else in the training all but settled myself down quickly. Stop worrying, I thought to himself, following the noises. I smiled a little bit when I saw it was one of the trainers, Atticus. The older one looked at me, smiling and he waved over to me and I strolled over to him.

"How's my favourite career" he said, his face red from training and a fine layer of sweat over him.

I chuckled "Just fine, and yourself?"

"Eh, kind of bummed out you're going to be gone for a while but you're going to come home and we can hit the town" and my grin almost mirrored Atticus's dopey grin, "Two bachelors hitting the town with some cash to splash. But you got to learn how to talk to people, okay? That prodigy career thing and your good looks can only get you so far" Atticus said, poking my in the chest.

"Well, I'll learn to talk when you can talk about anything other than yourself" I countered and Atticus chuckled, wrapping a sweaty arm around my neck and pulling him into a hug "I'm going to miss you, man". I wrapped my arms around him as well, resting my head against his chest.

"Did I mention how much you reek" I said, pulling away and I looked at Atticus.

Atticus was the living breathing definition of strength, how tall he was, how strong he was, it was something I had always wanted for myself. No matter how selfish that sounded I couldn't help but envy him. I was skinny, probably too skinny for a career. For some reason I just couldn't look buff, which never failed to frustrate me. I looked away, walking towards the swords picking one up, seeing if the blade was balanced.  
>Atticus's voice caught me off guard "Are you saying you think I'm a shit sword maker, because I take that very offensively" he said, walking towards me, a smile on his tanned skin.<p>

I put the sword away and Atticus somehow managed to looked more heartbroken "So you do!" he wailed out dramatically and I felt his face flush "No I don't" I mumbled under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched my friend and trainer wail around about 'his broken heart' and how 'he was never going to talk to him again'

I felt a pit in my stomach and I looked down at the ground "S-sorry I didn't mean to get you angry" I said quietly.

Atticus feel silent "Ha ha you should be-," then the older one turned his head, seeing my facial expression. He looked like he had just realized something. "Hey wait. Are you okay?" and he walked closer to me and I flicked my eyes away from him, biting the inside of my cheek trying to stop myself from thinking about one of my few friends leaving.

"Hey wait, shit, Aitou, I didn't mean it, man. I'm sorry" Atticus said gently, his hazel eyes looking softly at me and he extended his hand to me, touching my shoulder carefully "Come on, please say something" he mumbled gently to me and wiped my eyes "I'm fine" I mumbled.

Atticus's touch lingered for a few more moments then he pulled away. I looked up at him, desperately trying to will back tears. Which I did but the knot out of his throat still lingered. He only just managed to push "You won't tell anyone, will you?" I asked, my voice trying not to crack.  
>I always asked this whenever I got is. I couldn't find a way to describe it. It was the random things that set me off whenever I spoke to one of his very few friends, the feeling of total dread. The pit in my stomach felt like I could never be full again, or how my throat would tighten up to the point where I felt like I couldn't breathe and how I could never my voice loud enough to be heard.<p>

It was even worse at the academy, I always had the impending fear that someone would see me mess up beyond all reason and then I would be kicked and then my parents would kick me out and then I would die like a miserable piece of trash I am.  
>Atticus. Atticus was my best friend, he was always there for me, through thick and thin. "Eh, don't worry, I won't" he said, still so close to me, his hazel eyes soft and gently.<p>

"Do you promise" I felt the need to ask again, just to make sure and he nodded once again.

"Of course" he mumbled "Your my best friend, I'd never hurt you"

Guilt hit me like a train, was I really taking up all of Atticus's time? Atticus was a busy guy, he should have way more friends besides me. But he would always shrug and say that he 'liked my company way more'

Atticus was just saying that to make me feel better, I know it.

"For Pete's sake, I got to stop acting like such a fuck girl" I joked to him and Atticus looked at me sharply and I looked at the ground. So much for trying to lighten the mood. I hated it when Atticus got serious, he would go from my childhood friend to my teacher in a matter of seconds after I had another moment of weakness.

"You ain't acting like a girl, your acting human" he told me in a matter of fact voice and he shook my head, turning my back to him. Atticus footsteps followed me as I looked for anything to work with, anything than face his eyes. Atticus rested his head on my shoulder and I looked at my hands, fiddling with them. His hands covered mine, weaving through my fingers and our hands interlocked.

"I know for a fact you aren't a girl" he mumbled into the nape of my neck and I smiled at him, my grip on his hands tightening. He pressed his lips against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

"You gave up the games for me" I mumbled, remembering it was reaping day.

Atticus was supposed to volunteer last year, he was the favourite to win. But he never stuck up his hand to walk up on the stage. He just stood there in the eighteen year old section and I watched in horror as he looked over at me, grinning like he had won the lottery. Atticus had the shit beaten out of by the other career hopefuls, and he was nearly kicked out by his parents. When people asked him why he didn't volunteer he just shrugged and said he had other commitments

It was the day after he was supposed to volunteer when he knocked on my window and climbed into my room. I had no idea how to treat his cuts or his black eye or what to do with the chipped tooth, and he said "Couldn't think about leaving you, man". I remember crying my eyes out, telling him he was such an idiot for not going into the games, he was going to win and that I was a burden to him. "As long as I got you, I don't mind living in the alleys or even in distract 12".

The doors opened and Atticus and I ripped away. I rubbed my neck, looking at the ground. Acticuss crossed his arms over his chest and he asked them in a gruff voice "What are you doing here?"

"I was gonna get some training in before the reaping, geeez" laughed the blonde girl, smiling happily as she giggled. I recognize her. She's Scarlett Altva. She's pretty popular and she's great with knives. I see her at training sometimes but we never really speak. She and I used to train but then I moved trainers when I got older and promoted to the distract one volunteer.

"Well reaping is in" and he looked at the clock, it was seven o'clock, "an hour. Go home and get ready" he ordered her and she grinned all smiles before waltzing off. Shutting the door.

Atticus looked at me, chuckling "That sure was close".  
>Too close. Homosexuality wasn't a crime, but it was a social taboo. And since Atticus already had a bad reputation, he didn't need even more ammo for people to hate him. It was bad enough that he was trainer and older than me by a year. He would lose his job if people found out, or worse.<p>

My throat tightened and he gently put his arm around my shoulders as we walked out. It was nice being this close to him, and it looked platonic. He stopped at the reading square, parting our ways and going back to our homes.

My mother looked at me happily as I walked into the house, squeezing my cheek "I'm so proud of you!" she squealed "The girls at the saloon and at the market are so jealous! And you should see your father's friends! Everyone is so proud of you"

I smiled at her "Yeah, I'm really happy"

I still couldn't shake the hallow feeling in my chest. I knew their proud of me. Everyone's proud of me. I'm the distract one volunteer. I was picked out of god knows how many people to be the tribute this year. I should be proud. But whenever they got like this, when they were proud beyond all belief and so happy for me, I couldn't shake the hollow feeling.

Isn't there anything else you can be proud of?

I smiled at her again, hugging her tightly. I pulled away, walking up to my room to get dressed. I saw my clothes laid out on my bed. Mum probably did this when she heard I left to go to the academy. I took off my shirt and shorts, leaving them on the floor and put on the suit. It was black jacket, black pants, white shirt and black tie. I even had a pair of dad's old shoes to wear.

I walked down the stairs and my mother smiled so wide it looked like she was about to cry any second. My father was watching me, a grin on his face. He stood up, clapping his hands "Alright, it's time we see our boy off!"

We walked to the reaping square, people all grins and smiles. It was nice, being surround by all these happy people, I even saw a few people take photos of their children. They probably wanted to remember seeing their children so well dressed and happy to be here. I looked at the reaping square, seeing balloons and streamers and the escort was all grins and a skip in their steep.

I signed in, zooning out until I felt the prick in my finger and jumped. The peace keeper chuckled and I crossed my arms over my chest "Ha ha ha, laugh at my pain"

"I will" the peace keeper shot back and I grinned.

Strolling over to the 18 year olds section, I moved so I was nearest to the exit way. I really didn't want to have to shuffle out of the way of so mnay people but they all seemed to know how this song and dance was gonna go. It was just a matter of getting the dancers on stage. First the mayor came on and gave his speech. Then the escort. Then the victors. My eyelids felt heavy and I stifled a yawn.

"Jesus, this is gone kill me even before I get into the arena" I mumbled and I heard a boy next to me hide a laugh with a cough. The peace keeper gave us a look, he had also heard the joke and he hide his smile.

I smiled to myself and by ears perked up when I heard the escort call out "And know, the tributes shall be decided!"

"Ladies first" was all they said, reaching into the escort bowl and before they could even read out the name, Scarlett stuck up her hand, skipping over to the stage. I felt a lurch in my stomach, twisting unhappily. Don't get me wrong, I respect Scarlett and her talents it's just…she saw and it really didn't help that in a couple days we were gonna be in a fight to death. She could say something to someone and then everyone would find out.

I felt sweat trickle down my neck and a felt eyes on me. Why where they all looking at me? Did I do something thing again. My throat closed up and my eyes widen in pure terror. No No No-NONONONONO  
>Not now, anything but now!<p>

I was shaking, squeezing my fist as I looked at the escort as she called out the boy's name. Oh god. The escort didn't get to finish the tributes name because my hand shot up and I walked to the stage. Don't ask me questions, please for the love of god don't ask me anything. I took my time walking to the stage, trying to calm down my breathing my I must either look really excited or really eager. Good.

People can't know. People can't know about this. People can't know about Atticus. People can't know I get like this.

The distract escort walked over to me, a broad grin on her face "And what is your name?"

I'm okay. I just need to smile and say my name. I can do this. Aitou Tsanua. Aitou Tsanua. Aitou Tsuna.  
>"I'm Aitou Tsanua" I grinned at the escort, smiling at Scarlett. She smiled back and we shook hands, our grips tight.<p>

The crowds cheered, clapping and hollering at the top of their lungs and I smiled at them. But inside I was at war with myself, trying to calm down but every time I focused in on someone's face, the dread, the shortness of breath returned like a punch in the gut. It's okay. I repeated that to myself, trying to focus in on my breathing. We walked to the justice building and we were sat in out on goodbye rooms.

My parents were the first people to see me. My mother was crying and my father hugged me as tightly as he could, then my mother hugged me even tighter. I hugged them back, smiling at them. "We are so proud!"

I could remember how last year, she took my photo saying on how well dressed I was. I fiddled with my tie, and my mother redid "I can't have you looking like a scruffy little distract 12 mongrel on your big day" then she looked at my father, lightly slapping his arm "I told you we should have taken his picture!"

My father scoffed, rolling his eyes "Please, he'll come home and then you can take his picture all you want"

My father reached into his pocket, taking out a sliver ring with rubies on it. It was an heirloom. My eyes went wide "I can't take that- I would lose it on the first day". I really didn't doubt the idea that I would lose it in the capital, or on the train ride. He frowned, looking at the ring "Fine, you can have it when you come home and you damn well better wear it all the time. You hear me, boy"

I smiled "Yes, sir"

"Are you sure you don't want anything? You can have my necklace-"my mother spoke up before my father cut her off.

"Ruby, he doesn't want to look like a damn girl on the arena"

I laughed along with my father and I smiled at my mother and she looked at her necklace "Well, when you get a girlfriend, you can give her this necklace"

"Yeah, if I get one" I joked with them, smiling but I felt my smile flatter. I still hadn't told them. And frankly, I don't want to guess their reactions.  
>"Nonsense, you'll get your pick of the best girl out their" my father slapped me hard on the back "You'll be just like a young me"<p>

I laughed with him and my mother rolled her eyes "He has other visitors, come along dear" she ordered, grabbing her husband by his ear before the two of them walked out, my mother kissing me the cheek. The next person to walk in was Atticus.

He looked at me, smiling. He was still in his trainer clothes, then his eyes went wide as he walked over to me with a grin on his face "Oh? Is there a girl you aren't telling me about?"

"What?" I squeaked out, then he pointed at my cheek and I rubbed my cheek, seeing smeared lipstick on my hand and he laughed at me "That's probably going to me the only time you get lipstick on you from a girl"

I rolled my eyes, and I opened my arms for a hug. He hugged me so tight and I hugged him back. But Atticus proved himself stronger and I ended up being crushed. He rested his head on my shoulder then he looked at me, smiling softly and we pressed our foreheads together. We didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, just hugging peacefully. Then he looked around, seeing if it was clear. He pressed our lips together, short and quick, before he stood up when the peacekeepers walked in.

"Well, see you soon" he grinned and we hugged on final time but this one was much quicker than the last ones. "Yeah, we can have a party when I get back" I joked know full well that if I got back I wasn't going to have a party.

I was going to eat food and watch T.V.

I was escorted out of the room and onto the train, Scarlett and I walking side by side. I noticed how her grin seemed a little more manically and I thought about taking a step away from her but I think that seemed a little rude. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. We could do this. Distract one, here we come.

* * *

><p><strong>POV:<strong> **Scarlett Altava **(LadyLucyfer)

Today is Reaping day.

Damn it feels awesome to say that. Today. Is. Reaping day. Reaping day is today! Les jeux de la faim sont aujourd'hui!

Would it be un career-like of me to do a happy dance right now? 'Cause I really feel like doing a happy dance.

Screw it, I'm doing a happy dance.

Paying no heed to the weird looks I got as I twirled around, I more or less skipped the rest of the way to the training centre, unable to hold back the manic energy that had refused to leave me since the moment I had woken up. I couldn't help it, I was excited. After eight years of training it was finally my chance to enter into the games, to experience the ultimate thrill of risking my life day after day with the entirety of Panem watching every move I make. Yes, I know that I could die in the arena, but to be honest I don't really care. Death was just another adventure, right? Who knows what happens when we kick the bucket?

As I climbed the stone staircase that lead to the the training centre, I took a moment to wave at a few of the other trainees as they left the building, grinning brightly and high-fiving a few as the walked past. Every career knew that I was volunteering this year, especially the female ones, I had made sure to tell them well in advance that there was no way in hell any of them were going to be competing this year. Some had needed a little more persuading then others, but I'd made sure that they got the message. People are surprisingly co-operative when you're cutting off their fingers. They also scream a lot- like, a lot- it was like they didn't even appreciate how much effort I was putting in. Have you tried to kidnap a career and torture them into obeying you? No, because it's freaking hard.

...Wait, what was my point again?

Oh yeah, volunteering, me, Hunger Games. Back on topic, everyone knew who this years female tribute would be, which is why no one was surprised to see me at the training centre, getting in some last minute practice before I boarded the train to the one place that was more obsessed with fashion the District One- the Capitol. I know there would be training there but, well, I was bored and I had an hour to kill before the Reaping.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, stepping out of the cold and into the warmth of the training centre.

I stopped as I entered the room, surprised to see two young men standing in the middle of the room, holding each other close. The intimacy between them was impossible to mistake, even of the taller of the two wasn't kissing the other's neck.

"What are you doing here?" The taller one- who I recognised as Atticus, one of the trainers- snapped gruffly as the two quickly broke apart.

"I was gonna get some training in before the Reapings, geez," I laughed. Huh, that other guy was Aitou Tsanua, the male volunteer for this year. Small world, right?

"Well, Reaping's in an hour, go home and get ready," Atticus ordered. I rolled my eyes, touchy much? With a bright smile and a wave to my soon to be district partner, I turned and left the training centre, feeling slightly put out that I'd come all the way to the training centre for nothing.

I suppose I can't blame them for kicking me out, Aitou probably just wanted some time alone with his boyfriend before he went to the games.

Huh, maybe that's why they acted so freaked out when I came in- some people could be real jerks when it came to homosexuality, especially the tough career sort. For me it wasn't really that big of a deal, relationships in general bored me, so why would I care if the people in said relationship were the same gender?

Rolling my eyes at the complexity of it all, I turned down a side road, walking quickly up to the familiar house of my bet friend Reyna.

"Reynaaaa!" I called through the letter box, "Let me in it's bloody freezing out here."

I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and then Reyna opened the door, smiling brightly.

"You know, you do have a house of your own," She smiled, stepping aside to let me in.

"Yep, filled with boring twats who think I'm a psychopath," I said, "You're more fun."

"Yay," Reyna deadpanned.

"I know, right!" I grinned, skipping up the stairs and into Reyna's room. "Are you nearly ready to go yet?" I asked, leaning against the wall as Reyna walked past me and resumed straightening her long blonde hair. "Because I'm pretty sure you couldn't get that any straighter if you broke the laws of physics."

"You're asking me if I'm ready?" Reyna raised an eyebrow, "You're wearing your bloody training clothes Scarl."

"Yeah, but I bet I'll still be ready before you." I shrugged, opening Reyna's closet and rummaging through the dresses, incredibly glad that we were the same size. "Hmm, black or blue?" I asked, holding up two that had caught my eye.

"You are impossible," Reyna sighed, despite not looking at all annoyed. "Go with the blue, it suits your hair better," she advised.

"Yeah, allright," I agreed, putting the black dress back and gathering up a few accessories before shutting myself in Reyna's bathroom to get changed.

The dress was a dark blue, with a subtle flower pattern to the fabric and a skirt that reached my mid thigh. Reyna was right, it did go well with my dark red hair, which I left loose, not for any particular reason, simply because I couldn't be bothered to do anything with it. I slipped on a pair of matching heels and was out of the bathroom less then two minutes after I'd entered.

"Told ya I'd be ready first" i smirked, shrugging my handbag over my shoulder as Reyna added the finishing touches to her makeup.

Reyna rolled her eyes, "Unlike some people, I actually care what I look like." she said.

"I still look awesome though," I countered.

"I never said you didn't," Reyna smiled, finally putting the hair straighteners down. "See, ready. Told ya," she said, slipping her feet into a pair of heels and walking down the stairs.

"Praise the Capitol, the impossible has happened!" I joked, skipping after her with ease. The fact that I was wearing heels didn't hinder me at all- it was practically the law in District One that every female between the ages of eight and eighty should be able to walk, run, skip and win the bloody Hunger Games in six inch heels.

Reyna smiled, "Ready to become a tribute?"

"Do you even need to ask that question?" I grinned, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

"Fair point," Reyna agreed, as the two of us left the house and followed the crowds of people to the town square. Reyna and I spent the entire walk talking about nothing but the games- the excitement was practically radiating off me.

By the time we reached the square I couldn't stand still, waiting had always been hell for me, and I really just wanted to volunteer already. "Come on come on come on come on!" I repeated, pacing back and forth impatiently as we stood in the line to sign in. I swear whoever invented queues was an evil genius. "Would they stop me volunteering if I killed everyone in this line?"

"Yes, they would," Reyna said calmly, quickly taking the concealed knife that I'd pulled out from my handbag.

"Killjoy," I pouted.

"Save the murder for the games Scarley," She advised, stepping forward as the line shifted by a few centimetres. I craned my neck to see how far we had left to go, having to stand on my tiptoes because despite the heels, I was still woefully short. I was relieved to see that there were only five or six people in front of us. We reached the front of the line fairly quickly, and I stepped in front of Reyna to sign in.

"Afternoon Random Peacekeeper Guy, wonderful day we have here," I said with a bright smile as I offered my hand for him to take my blood. He scowled at me, stabbing my finger a bit harder the necessary. "Wow, definitely all rainbows and sunshine over here, it's so nice to see a happy face in this dark and dreary world we live in!" I mocked, flashing the peacekeeper a wild grin in response to his death glare as I twirled away and hopped the barrier into the sixteen year olds section.

I pushed myself as far forward as I could go, close to the entrance so that I could get to the stage quicker. Reyna came to stand beside me and we settled in for the inevitable boredom that lead up to the Reapings.

I love the Hunger Games, don't get me wrong, but seriously, couldn't they just liven this up a bit? Every year it was the same old speech, the same monotone voice of the mayor. Couldn't they at least change the speech? Add some pyrotechnics maybe? Seriously, fire makes everything better.

I sighed, reaching into my handbag and pulling out a bar of chocolate, passing half to Reyna and munching away on the rest. Ah, sugar, my salvation in dark times of boredom. I watched the stage dutifully for a few seconds, making one token attempt at listening to the speech.

I frowned, nope, too boring. Screw it, I tried.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with M," I whispered, careful not to be heard by the peacekeepers.

"Mentors?" Reyna guessed, looking around the square.

"Nope,"

"Moms?" She looked to the crowd of adults and young children around the edge.

"Okay what is it then?" She asked.

"Monstrosity," I smirked, gesturing to the escort's overly poofy yet dangerously short purple dress, adorned with so many sparkly things that it could most likely blind people were the light to hit it at the right angle.

"Bloody hell you're right," She muttered. "Something beginning with C?"

I smiled. The game of eye spy managed to get us through the entirety of the boring part of the reapings, and we only stopped when the Escort, henceforth known as Sparkles since I really couldn't be bothered to remember her name, took the stage.

I grinned. "Here we go," I more or less sang, now focussed on the stage with rapt attention.

The female tribute was called and my hand was raised before Sparkles even finished the name. "I volunteer as tribute!" I called, leaping up and down with glee and waving my hand in the air as I ran towards the stage.

Deciding that simply walking up the steps would be boring, I utilised my gymnastic training to throw myself into a forwards flip over the barrier at the front of the square, my hands landing on the metal railing for a split second before I pushed off and flipped onto the stage, landing in a crouch in front of the escort. Not waiting for an invitation i strode towards her, snatching the microphone and turning to face the crowd.

"Hello Panem!" I called, "My name is Scarlett Altava, awesome career and future victor!" I winked at the nearest camera, "Over to you, Sparkles," I chirped, tossing the microphone back to her with a smile.

Looking somewhat flustered by my unusual entrance, Sparkles took a moment to regain her composure before she started to call the male tribute.

By this point I was once again not paying attention, overcome by the intoxicating rush of knowing that the whole of Panem was watching me. I laughed quietly, my heart racing with excitement as the realisation set in.

The Games had well and truly begun.


	3. District 2

**copaceticbaby A/N: Yay! First chapter! I will change it to District order once everyone has sent there chapter in but for now here's the first! Here's District Two**

**District Two**

**POV: Tommy Malaroy **(Author Kongy)**  
><strong>

I wake up to a bright, sunlight filled room on the morning of Reaping Day. I blink a few times to get my eyes used to the intensity of the light and brush the blankets and sheets off of me. I swing my legs off my bed and stretch, relief flooding my back as I hear several audible cracks.

I look up above my door at a digital clock I put there a while ago. It reads 7:15 AM, which leaves me about forty-five minutes before the Reapings started. Should be enough time, I mentally note before heading to the bathroom that is adjoined to my bedroom to take a shower. I turn the knob for slightly warm water in the shower and wait for it to warm as I slip out of my flannel nightpants and throw them into my room; I'll bother with them later. I then brush my teeth quickly because I don't plan to eat until the train, so if I brush now i won't have to worry about my teeth being yellow or my breath smelling.

I stick my hand into the shower stream to check if the water is at a comfortable temperature to enjoy. A few moments of feeling the water confirms that it is and I hop in and close the shower door, leaving me to my thoughts. A quick five minute shower is all that I need and I hop out and grab a towel that is hanging on the wall next to the sink. I dry off well and walk over to my pants that I threw onto the floor and drop my towel onto them.

I grab some boxers and slip them, then walk over to my closet and check what's inside. I go through the shirts and find a black and white flannel. I decide to wear that with some dark blue denim jeans with a belt and for shoes, I choose some generic dark-brown and light brown top-siders.

I walk over to the body-length mirror in my bathroom and admire myself. I have to admit, I look pretty good.

Next, I walk over to my hamper that sits in the corner of my room and open its wicker lid, placing it on the ground. I run back over to the clothes I put on the ground, picking up the towel and balling it up and tossing it at the opening of the hamper. The towel arcs in the air and lands in the basket, bumping the edge of it as it fell in.

I chuckle and pick up the pants and ball them up too. This time, I bounce them off the wall behind the hamper, but they still fell in, to my delight.

I check the time once again and see that there are only five minutes until the Reaping starts! How did the time go by so fast? I run out of my room, down the hall to the stairs and to the front door which was at the bottom of stairs.

"Mom! Dad! I'm leaving now! The Reapings start soon!" I yell to them. I'm assuming they were in the kitchen, so they should be able to hear me.

"We'll be down soon!" I hear my mom reply.

"Okay!" I say as I leave the house. I run down my driveway, onto the street. I slow down to a walk so I don't get sweaty and I don't need to rush considering I'm a minute or two away from the Town Square. Up ahead of me, I notice a neighbor of mine. She's also my District partner. Her name is Priscilla Burton and she's one of the richest and most popular kids in the whole district. But she's a bit annoying considering how highly she thinks of herself. Other than that small detail, she's great to hang out with.

Anyways, I follow her small procession of her friends from a distance. They are all chattering about having a party or something when Priscilla wins the Games and comes back. Honestly, Priscilla is going to be good competition, but from my experiences with her in the Training Centre, she isn't anything amazing. The only weapons she's good with are knives and axes. She's phenomenal with them. Otherwise, she's not that good at any other weapon.

I turn the corner of a shop and make into the bustling Square. The video they play every year regarding why the Games came to be and such is already playing when I make it to the table. A few of Priscilla's friends are still in line when I walk up.

"Oh, hey Tommy!." A boy named Chale, one of Priscilla's friends, said to me when I walk up.

"Hey, man! What's up?" I say back. I've known for years, I still hang out with him often, but not recently considering he moved across the town. "Haven't seen you in while since you moved."

"Yeah, we're still moving in and stuff, it's kinda hectic." He replied.

I nodded in understanding. "Yeah,"

We talked a bit while we wait for our turn at the tables. After a few minutes, we make it up and the video is wrapping up. Before the lady can say "Next" to me, I give her my hand for her to prick. She pricks it, places it on the paper and says that I'm done.

"See ya, Chale!" I say and rush over to my age and gender group. I get there just as the escort starts drawing names. Lochlan, our flamboyant escort, dips his hand into the girls' bowl and quickly grabs a slip of paper. He barely has time to open it before Priscilla yelled out,

"I volunteer!"

She gracefully strides up to the makeshift stage and over to Lochlan.

"Great, a volunteer!" Lochlan states in his annoyingly high voice. "What's you name?" He asks her.

"Priscilla Burton, and I'm your next victor!" Priscilla announces with a smile. See what I mean? She can be a bit overconfident.

"Wonderful, dear!" Lochlan replies. "Now for the boys!" Lochlan struts to the next bowl over, which is the boys' of course. When he makes it to the bowl, he reaches in and swirls his hand around the glass a few times as to cause anticipation. After a few agonizingly long moments, he finally pulls out a slip of paper.

"Topaz Marks!" Lochlan announces.

I raise my hand in the air to bring attention to me and yelled, "I volunteer!" I put my hand  
>down and start to push my way through the kids to get to the center aisle. I finally get through and jog up to the stairs, going up them two at a time. As I get to the top of the stairs, I notice Lochlan's skin is a weird color of purple. I mean, it's even weird for Capitalites to have this color skin.<p>

I walk over and shake his hand firmly and he asks for my name. I lean over to the microphone and say, "Tommy Malaroy."

"Great!. Everyone, these are your District 2 tributes for this year's Hunger Games!" Lochlan confidently announces to the crowd, who clapped in return with some cheers thrown in the mix.

I shake hands with Priscilla and get brought by a Peacekeeper to the room for goodbyes. My parents come in and we talk for a bit. I say my goodbyes to them and then they leave. Next a few friends come in, including Chale. We joke and laugh, then they leave. That's about it. The Peacekeeper opens the door and says, "Time to leave." in a monotone voice.

I get up and follow him to the train, which isn't that far away. Priscilla and I get in and the trip to the Capital has started.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Pricilla Burton <strong>(Author Camilla Atticus)

I looked at my reflection in my axe. I smiled when I saw my face. I think I look great in my training clothes the career academy provided me. I threw my axe swiftly, and it hit the target right in the center. "Perfect" I thought. I ripped it out of its target and took another look at myself. I saw I had a little sweat over my lip. "Not good for the reaping at all" I thought. "I guess I have to shower" I said to myself. I gathered my axes up and put them away. I took one last look at my training room as I shut the door.

I got in my shower. I loved to shower, and I hated being nasty. Your shower is the solution to cleanliness. I washed myself up until I was squeaky clean. I shaved my legs, and underarms, to keep myself flawless. I then started my tub, and poured vanilla perfume in it. I had to smell good today. I need to impress the people in the capitol. After all, I would enjoy a couple of sponsors. I soaked in the tub for 15 minuets.

I blow dried my hair, and then curled it. I fixed my eyebrows up, and applied my dark blue eye makeup. I put my dark blue dress that I got from the career academy. It looks absolutely stunning. It is made up of brilliant fabrics from 8, and it is short, so it shows off my long legs. I put on dark blue heels to match the dress, and to add onto my height. I love how tall I am. I can easily attack boys because of my height. I hope to surprise all the boys from other Districts, to intimidate them. My mother walked into the bathroom to check up on me.

"You look absolutely stunning" she said in awe

"Thanks" I replied.

She looked upset about something. And I know what it is.

"Mom, why won't you believe in me? I'm probably going to be the strongest one out there! I f*** hate it when you act like a complete b***, just because you think I will die." I shouted at her.

"I'm sorry Priscilla. I'm just worried about you."

"Worried about what? I have trained 7 years for this! I know I can make it!" I shouted.

"I'm sorry Priscilla. I know you can make it. I'm just a worried mother" she said.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you Mom" I replied. I gave her a hug, because I truly do care about her.

I was about to walk out the door until I noticed my lips."S***" I thought. I ran to go put on my lip gloss. I grabbed the tube of the stuff, and carefully applied it to my lips. I smiled at my reflection, and walked out. Today will probably be one the best days in my life, aside from winning. I walked out of my house, and saw all my friends waiting for me. I spotted my best friends Marcella and Rufus. They had flowers and balloons for me. I smiled when I saw them.

"Hey Priscilla!" Marcella said.

"Hey!" I replied.

"I hate that your going to be gone for a couple of weeks. When you cone back, give us a tour of your new house." Rufus said.

Actually, the houses in Victors village aren't as big as mine. I plan to get my own house, one bigger than my parents when I win.

"Well, I don't want to live in that slum house. Let's use that house as a party place!" I said. All my friends started getting excited.

"That is going to be awesome!" Marcella said. "I know" I replied.

I love my life. I'm the most popular girl at my school. All the boys want to date me, but i've turned them all down. I like this one guy here. He is 22, and he works as a doctor. He is so hot. Once I win, he would have to date me, because of my fame. I sighed when I saw Tommy Malaroy, the male for our district. He has trained with me for awhile now. He is pretty skilled, but I know I am so much better than him.

My friends and I separated into two sections, dividing the boys from the girls. We came up to a table full of peacekeepers and signed in. Signing in was such a boring task. I hated how they had to prick our fingers. Some of the blood would be left on your finger, and that was pretty gross.

The peacekeeper grabbed my finger and pricked it. I finally got signed in. I filed into the girls section with Marcella.

"Good luck Priscilla" she whispered

"Thanks" I replied softly. Our escort, Lochlan walked across the stage. He looked quite ridiculous in his bright gold clothes, and with his purple skin.

"Welcome!" Lochlan squealed.

"The time has come to select one man and woman to participate in the Hunger Games!" I took a deep breath. This was the moment I have been waiting for my whole life.

"Ladies first!" He sqealed. Before he called out the name I yelled out,

"I volunteer!" I began to gracefully walk forward.

"Great a volunteer! What's your name?"

" I am Priscilla Burton, and I will be your next victor!"

"Wonderful dear!" He said. I stood tall and straight. I had to look as presentable as possible.

"Now for the boys!" Lochlan exclaimed. He walked over to the boys bowl and grabbed an name out.

"Topaz Marks" he exclaimed.

"I volunteer" Tommy yelled.

"Great another volunteer! What's your name?" Lochlan exclaimed.

"Tommy Malaroy" he said.

"Your tributes for District 2! Lochlan announced. We were told to shake hands. We were lead back into the justice building.

I was lead into an okay looking room. I saw Marcella, and Rufus walk in.

"You were great!" Rufus said

"Thanks!" I replied.

"Yeah you were awesome!" Marcella said. I smiled at her.

"It sucks that your going away for a couple of weeks. When you get back, we will party all night!" Rufus exclaimed.

"Thanks, I will enjoy the party" I replied.

"Be great in the arena for us!" Marcella exclaimed. Two peacekeepers lead them out, and my parents came in.

"You were outstanding!" My father exclaimed.

"Thanks Dad. I will win for you!" I replied.

"Be safe Camilla" my mother said. I rolled my eyes at her comment.

"Mom, I will be fine!" I replied

"I know dear" she replied. She gave me her necklace.

"Mom, I cannot take this from you" I said.

"You must" she replied. Her necklace was a gorgeous ruby necklace, made with real gold. I saw two peacekeepers walked in, and lead them out. A lot of other people (who I didn't really care about) came in. Once my visits were finished, I was lead out to the train.


	4. District 3

**District Three**

**POV: Tycho Burns **(insert meaningful phrase here)

When I get down to the table, Mother and Father are in the midst of a heated discussion about whether a drought would affect 10, 11, or the Capitol more.

"The irrigation systems in 10 are absolutely - hi, dear, there's food on the table - absolutely unfurnished for a drought," Mother says, gesticulating frantically with her apron. "They can't depend on the river at all."

"11 is much bigger than ten, and they may have a bigger river but it doesn't help the parts that can't reach it at all," Father retorts.

Kelsey sits at the table, watching them with equal parts amusement and frustration. I slide in next to her, shaking my head.

"How long have they been at it this time?" I ask.

She shrugs and nibbles contemplatively on the slice of toast in her hand. "I dunno. Not too long. They were talking about District 4 when I came down."

We sit in silence for few moments. I grab a slice of bread and scoop some eggs for myself, but I don't have much of an appetite. I don't even like eggs that much, but I know that I should eat, if only to prevent myself from doing something embarrassing like fainting in the middle of the square.

"Is Max coming today?" I ask Kel between bites.

She shakes her head slowly, still engrossed in our parents' conversation. "I dunno."

"- think of the tractors!" Mother says, and punctuates it with a slap of her apron.

Kel starts giggling.

I can't seem to stomach much, between my parents and the odd trembling that takes over my hands every Reaping day, so I give up on food and get up from the table.

"You going to Shaw's house?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I said. "Tell Mother and Father that I'll see them after the Reaping."

"I think they have work after the Reaping," Kel says. "But yeah, whatever. Go play with the only friends you have."

"You're twelve," I tell her. "You have no room to judge anyone."

"Well, you're fifteen, so I don't see you doing any better," she mutters, and sticks her tongue out at me while I look around for something to chuck at her.

"Brat," I say after deciding she isn't worth losing my shoe for.

She just grins like the little imp she is. "Can't deny that."

"There are no tire tracks!" my father bellows as I exit the house.

* * *

><p>Micah and Clerk are already at Shaw's by the time I get there. They're all lounging around near the television, which is uncharacteristically quiet.<p>

"And so the circle is complete!" Shaw says dramatically as I walk into the room, flinging his arms wide. "Come join us, oh lazy one."

"Why am I lazy?" I ask. I take a seat on the ground next to Micah, who's fiddling with a little handheld radio device.

Shaw scoffs. "You just rolled out of bed, didn't you. And don't lie," he adds, seeing the look on my face.

I hold my hands out in silent capitulation. "Okay, okay," I say. "It's not even that late, though. You just wake up absurdly early."

Clerk says, "I slept through my alarm and still woke up later than you."

"You're not helping," I complain at the same time Shaw guffaws and goes "See? See? You're just lazy!" Micah smiles, but doesn't say anything.

"What's that you're holding?" I ask him, pointedly ignoring Shaw.

He shrugs. "My brother's toy radio. It broke yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out how to fix it."

"Oh, really? Let me see."

He hands over the toy to me. It's got a crack along one side, and the case is a little dented. When I shake it, something rattles. "Is it supposed to do that?" I ask Micah, who shakes his head.

"Are you two seriously going to spend this time fixing a toy?" Shaw asks, sounding annoyed.

"What else are we going to do?" I ask. "We're going to leave in half an hour anyways. It's not like it'd make a difference what we do."

"But you can fix the toy after the Reaping," Shaw complains. "We could be doing something more interesting right now."

"We're not talking about the Games, you dumbass," Clerk snaps, effectively mirroring my thoughts.

District Three likes to talk. Some say our network of information is more complicated than the network of circuits that support the district, because it's the one thing we learned to evolve fast enough that the Capitol couldn't crack down on it after the rebellion. It used to be a really big, important thing, top-secret and untraceable, that kept the District from going falling apart under the ever-present surveillance.

It's not nearly as hidden nowadays - most of it old wives' gossip, passed along by word of mouth or hastily scribbled messages. I don't like it much, personally. If the Capitol wanted to shut it down, it'd be pretty easy for them to do so. I don't think they care as much anymore, though

Emilie Maxwell used to tell us that we were the "sweet spot" in terms of Panem history. "The rebellion happened recently enough that you're not all willing to stir up trouble yet," she always said, "but it's been long enough that your generation has been forgiven for your ancestor's sins."

District Three likes to talk, but the one thing we don't talk about on Reaping day is the Reaping.

Shaw's always had some odd obsession with the Games, though, so it's like he's the only one who doesn't get the message.

"But it's so interesting," he says. "There could be so many Arena options - I've heard that they've cleared out a section of desert to build one in. Wouldn't a desert Arena be so cool? Think about all the muttations and -"

"Shaw," Micah says pointedly, and Shaw falls silent.

I think about a desert Arena. It'd be hot, definitely. The sun would heat the sand, cooking it like coals. Rubber soles could melt, and then the feet beneath would be burned and blistered. I wonder if the heat from the sand alone could roast a person, slowing burning them from the ground up.

No matter how much I try to keep it hypothetical, though, I can't drive the image of Kel burning alive out of my head, so I push that train of thought away.

"We should probably go soon," Micah says, after a long silence.

We arrive at the square early, but so does everyone else in the District, because by the time we get to the square the 15-16 section is already filled with people milling about. I stop to look for Kel, who arrives a bit after us. She's wearing a starch-stiff dress and a bow that makes her look more like a cartoon penguin than a "proper lady" or whatever may have you. She looks ridiculous and I turn to yell that at her when the image of her lying under the desert sun, skin red and raw, flashes unbidden in my mind.

I shiver and jerk away. Micah looks at me, concerned, and follows my gaze.

"It's her first year, isn't it?" he asks me quietly.

I look away and shrug. "Yeah," I say. My voice comes out almost as steady as normal.

"Don't worry," he tells me and pats me on the back. "She's only got one slip in there."

"Twelve-year-olds get Reaped almost every year," I say. Shaw probably has an actual statistic, but I don't need it to know that there is still that chance that Kelsey will be one of the girls sent to die this year.

"Yes," Micah says, "but dwelling on that won't help."

I turn away.

The escort - Prisca - has come up on stage. This year, she's wearing a flowing yellow-green-orange dress that looks like something out of the tropics and shifts oddly when she walks. Her hair seems to be pulled back. When she turns, I can see the three low spikes jutting out of her head.

"Hairstyle rating?" I ask Shaw under my breath

He considers for a second. "A six out of ten," he says, affecting a very pretentious Capitol accent. "Odd, but it certainly attracts attention and fits the...morbid...tone of the event."

I laugh. On stage, Prisca starts speaking.

It's the same drivel as always - may the odds be ever in your favor! you're all going to die! here's a video to remind you of why your lives are complete bullshit! - so I zone her out and ask Shaw for an opinion on her dress.

"Too many layers," he says breathlessly. "No room to admire the, ehm...natural figure of the model."

"What natural figure," Clerk mutters.

The video's finished and Prisca's at the first glass bowl - as always, ladies first! - so we stop critiquing her fashion and start paying attention again.

Prisca opens the paper agonizingly slowly. Don't be Kel, I think; don't be Kelsey, don't be Kel, anything, anyone but Kel-

"Nightshade?" Prisca reads, and a wave of relief washes over me and weakens my knees.

I haven't heard her name before, but I think I dimly recognize the small, pale girl that climbs on to the stage. She's a year up from me, I know, and I don't think I've seen her surrounded by friends before, but I don't know anything else about her besides that.

Prisca goes through her usual forced introduction. Procedural. I don't pay attention until she walks to the other glass bowl. Her hand swirls lightly over the slips of paper before reaching in and delicately plucking one out.

"Tycho Burns?"

Behind me, Micah whispers "Shit," and suddenly the only I can think is that Micah never swears, no matter how angry or unsettled he is, and that more than anything else tells me something is horribly, horribly wrong. My ears feel plugged, like someone just shoved cotton into them, and I can't move, can't look, can't breathe, can only feel as people start murmuring and shifting away from me.

"Is that -" I start. My voice sounds too high and pitchy, even to my own ears.

The murmurs just increase, and the people in front of my turn around, glance behind me, glance at me, and all I can think is why is Micah swearing, why did she call my name, she can't have called my name. There's something pushing me forward, a hand, and I hear Clerk's voice repeating "go to the stage, go to the fucking stage you idiot."

"What-" I try again, stumbling forward a little.

"You wait any longer and the Peacekeepers'll be up on us," Clerk hisses, and pushes me again. "You're already as good as dead - don't make yourself out to be an easy target as well. Pull yourself together and get on the fucking stage.

I realize I'm babbling "No, I'm not dead yet, I'm not dead, I'm not dead," in the same high, pitchy voice. I clamp my mouth closed and step out of the 16-17 section, towards the stage. My hands are shaking. I clasp them together and hope no one notices. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the Peacekeepers that had been moving forward fall back into line.

"There you are!" says Prisca, and suddenly the orange-yellow of her dress is two blinding and I look away, down at my feet, down at my knees that are trembling and don't stop even when I try to lock them. "Come up here, darling."

When I get on the stage, she spins me around towards the cameras and the too-bright lights. I squint, but it doesn't block the harsh rays from scorching my eyes, so I drop my gaze, but then I'm looking directly at Kel, who's pale and frozen, her mouth hanging open and her eyes oddly watery.

Prisca shoves a microphone at me, and I stare at it in bewilderment before I realize that she's probably just asked me a question. I try to speak. There's something in my throat. I clear it, and try again, but I end up just mouthing words.

"How do you feel?" Prisca prods me.

"Um," I try, and succeed in actually making a sound this time. "I-I'm, um..."

Scared, I think. I'm scared, and I'm weak and I'm going to die and my little sister is watching me be sent to my death-

"I'm al-alright," I say instead, awkwardly stumbling over the three short syllables.

"Of course you are!" Prisca says breathlessly. "You're a Tribute! You're going to do fabulously, aren't you?"

I can't meet her eyes, so I continue to stare somewhere above the ground and nod.

"Well, here we are, District Three!" Prisca says, undeterred by my inability to talk properly. "Your tributes for the 68th Hunger Games!"

She motions to us to grab hands. We raise them together, and I still can't look into the lights, so I stare down at the floor, blinking through a sheen of tears.

I don't cry.

* * *

><p>Mother, Father, and Kel are the first ones to say goodbye. As soon as she enters the room, Mother bursts into tears.<p>

"I'm sorry," she says, over and over again, like a mantra that would bring me back if she just said it enough time. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I say, or at least try to, because the lump in my throat seems to swallowing all my words.

Kel comes up to me. The bow on her head is askew now, and her wavy black hair looks much more tussled than it had before the Reaping, and all in all she just looks even more like a little disgruntled penguin than ever that I laugh through the lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes.

"What?" she asks grumpily.

"You look ridiculous," I tell her. She sticks her tongue at me, but there's no force behind it this time.

"You'll come back," she says. It's a statement. The way she would say something like "it's butty today" or "Shaw is obsessed with the Games".

Perhaps on some days, I would argue with her. "No, look, the sun's actually peeking through," or "It's just a hobby. Can't collecting Games things be a hobby?". Today, though, there's no room for argument.

"Yeah," I say. "I'll come back."

She seems satisfied with this, so she takes out a copper bracelet and clasps it on my wrist. It's the first thing she ever made, back when she was six and learning about different crafts. I haven't seen it since the day she made it.

"Here," she said. "So you won't forget me."

I laugh, and pull her into a hug. "You're my annoying little sister," I say into her hair. "I couldn't forget you even if I tried."

She pulls away looking a little pinched. "Well...don't," she says, lamely, and steps back.

After my family comes Shaw, Micah, and Clerk. Shaw's eyes are rimmed in red, but Micah and Clerk and completely stone-faced. They stop in the doorway.

"Hey guys," I say, and then Micah runs towards me and hugs me, nearly knocking my head back against the stone wall in the process. The Peacekeepers at the door make a motion towards their guns, but stop when they see I'm not in any danger.

"I should've volunteered," he says, rambling. "I'm the one who knows the Games, I'm the one who's even thought about fighting, I'm the one who knows how to work a crowd, I should have volunteered-"

I pry him off me. "Hey," I say again. "Calm down."

Micah and Clerk have entered the room, having followed Shaw at a more sedate pace.

"We'll, uh - we'll look at sponsorship prices," Clerk says, fidgeting. "See if we can send you anything."

"You're going to win," Shaw says fiercely. "We're going to bring you back home. Don't you dare make us see you die."

The lump in my throat is back, and I want to cry and scream and break down and tell him that I can't, that I don't know how to kill and I don't want to be killed and can't he remember that I could barely complete the mile in gym class? That I couldn't swim? That I have absolutely no idea how to survive on my own, that I've never even spent a night away from home before?

But this is the last time I'm going to be seeing him, and I don't want to leave the best friend I've ever had completely devastated, so I swallow my fears and say, "Yeah, of course I'm going to win."

Shaw says "You'd better," and then starts crying, honest-to-God crying.

Clerk's looked steadily more and more uncomfortable, so he says "Good luck, man. We'll be with you every step of the way," and claps me on the shoulder. He takes Shaw by the shoulder and guides him out of the room.

Before he leaves, though, he turns back to me.

"I'm so sorry, man," he says, sounding the angriest I've ever heard him. When I look up, his face is still stony, but the hand that isn't on Shaw's shoulder is clenched into a fist and nearly vibrating with pent-up emotion. He opens his mouth to say something more, but then closes it and swears. "This is fucked up," he says, and leaves.

It's quiet. The only thing I can hear is the heavy thud-thud of my heart.

"One more minute," one of the Peacekeepers says, and I start in surprise. I'd almost thought that Micah had left as well.

He just looks at me for a few moments.

"They're going to kick you out soon," I say, almost to prod him.

He nods. "I know," he says.

We fall back into silence for a few moments.

"This really sucks," I say, finally. I pretend my voice didn't crack.

He gets up from where he's seated on the ground, comes up and sits next to me. He taking one of hands, tracing the lines on the palm.

"It does," he agrees.

"Thirty seconds," the Peacekeeper calls out.

"Are you-"

"It's okay if you don't win," Micah blurts out. He's looking at my palm, still tracing it. "It...that came out wrong, didn't it?"

"Maybe," I say, but he doesn't seem to hear it.

"It's just...I want to see you come back. I want to see you come back the way you left, as you, as the friend I've come to admire so much. I feel...I wouldn't even mind seeing an empty Capitol shell of you, because that's still you, you know?"

He pauses. The guard says, "15 seconds."

"If you don't, though-" and he stops for half a second there "-it's okay. Don't worry about us. We'll look after Kel, and we'll look after each other. Max'll look after your parents if it comes to that. It'll be okay."

"And maybe we'll be able to see you when we've - passed on, as well."

He leaves just before the Peacekeepers decide to bodily haul him out.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Nightshade Ellerin<strong> (The souless ones)

Reaping of hell.

Actually not that bad, people always make the reaping sound so dramatic, I wouldn't know, I never go. I know, silly, but I personally dislike being sent out into the middle of the District and forced to watch my friends and acquaintances be told to go to the capitol and die, so this was the first time I guess.

"Come on Nightshade, you can do this, I know you can."

Wait can I? I'm not so crazy about doing this now, maybe I'll just stay here and hide all day.

"No, were going, stop trying to get out of it!" I shouted at the mirror, stupid thing was trying to drown me out, go I hate it when this has to go on. When would I understand that so many things will not go right today? That's jinxed it now, whoopdee do!

I hoped that someone I knew would be reaped along with me if something went wrong, I knew nobody would volunteer for me but... Well a girl can hope can't she?

"Nightshade?! 'Sup kid? Never thought I'd see you outside on reaping day." Called Robin, I flinched but turned to look at him nonetheless.

"Yeah, me either. Such a shocking change huh?" I replied nervously, its not that I didn't like him, just... Crushed hopelessly on him more like.

"Not exactly, at least you've got hardly any chance if being picked, I've got tons on my name this year." He sighed, I looked down at my undone laces and smiled sadly.

"If only my friend, if only something would be done to stop this destruction, the reaping, the games." I whispered, Robin put his arm around me securely, pulling me along and not letting of until we had to split into our genders.

"Welcome, welcome. The 68th hunger games of Panem! Ladies and gentleme, shall we start now then? With the ladies?"Prisca chirped, I tried to cover my ears but fought the reaction. She rifled around in the bowl with a green glitter covered hand and much to my dismay, withdrew a name.

" Nightshade Ellerin." She proclaimed, what were that chances of this? I walked forward, up the stairs and to the woman in so much glitter it hurt. She grabbed my upper arm and dragged me over to her left side.

"Now for the gents..." Swirling her hand around, I felt my stomach clenching and relaxing with my self arguing. I was so distracted that I almost missed her calling out the next name.

"Tycho Burns!" I looked out over the crowds, scanning for the kid I didn't know. When he started to move, I felt sorry for him although he didn't look to be much younger that me, about a year or so, but it felt awful to know that I might have to kill this boy.

"Hey, I'm Nightshade." I whispered as we shook hands, he seemed plugged for words right now so I simply nodded and gave him a kind smile. Maybe that would help soften the shock of being a Tribute for the first and last time.


	5. District 4

**District Four**

**POV: Athan Cole** (nativedoll16)

My eyes began to flutter open as I heard the sound of the Herring Gulls flying outside my window. I have the same daily routine. I wake up and hear the sound of the Herring Gulls wings flapping, I go downstairs to eat breakfast, and then I lock myself in my room until dinnertime.  
>Nothing in my house ever changes. The only thing that could make a difference in my life every year is being sent to the Reaping.<br>I rubbed my eyes and placed my rectangular, black framed glasses onto my face. I looked around my room and noticed a white button down dress shirt with a pair of light brown pants hanging from my closet.  
>I knew the outfit was selected for this year's Reaping, so I did my usual morning routine and bolted down stairs.<br>Everything in my oversized home is decorated in white and tan colors because every room has marble floors.  
>When I made it downstairs I was allured by the scent of fresh eggs with spinach, onions, and elderberries. I walked to the dining room table, and just like every other morning, my parents were absent.<br>I heard the sound of a feminine voice humming.  
>"There you are." My maid Carina said with a bright smile on her face.<br>Carina has almond shaped hazel eyes, with curly dark brown hair and a petite body frame.  
>"I was worried that you were going to over sleep this morning. Are you feeling all right?"<br>Carina said placing the plate of eggs in front of me.  
>"I feel fine." I said lying through my teeth.<br>Carina seemed unconvinced. "Well I have good news, your father and mother will be joining you for breakfast today. They informed me the other day, but I wanted to wait and tell you this morning." Carina said sounding hopeful.  
>"My parents always make promises they cannot keep." I said moving the eggs around on my plate.<br>"Your parents would not lie to you on a day like this Athan." Carina said and I shrugged.  
>"It never stopped them before."<br>Carina looked disappointed. "You should not say things like that."  
>I placed the fork down. "I am just saying that my parents could care less if I am sent to my death today."<br>"You will not have to worry about that because you are not going to be reaped."  
>"How do you know?" I asked.<br>"Athan Cole I have known you since you were five years old, and I have never lied to you before." Carina said lifting my chin so I could look her in the eyes.  
>"I am sure that one the Careers will volunteer to be in the Games again and everyone else will be spared. Now, finish your breakfast and get prepared to leave." Carina said patting my chin.<br>I smiled lightly and placed a few eggs into my mouth. Right before I could swallow my second bite, my parents Antone Cole and Thea Cole walked through the front door.  
>"They should fire some of these amateur Peacekeepers; I am tired of these low class urchins begging for money." My father said.<br>"In the past, they would have been shot straight through the head for even speaking to people of our standards." My mother said combing her fingers through her aqua blue hair.  
>My parents both sat down at the dining table without acknowledging me or Carina.<br>My mother looked down at her plate.  
>"Carina what's this?" She asked holding up her plate.<br>"It is called Sambuco Blossoms. It is your son's favorite, and I thought it would be a good idea to make his favorite breakfast considering what today is." Carina said nervously.  
>"Today is no more important than any other day. I will not sit here and eat a dish covered in elderberries; it is bad for my pearl white skin complexion." My mother ranted with a distasteful look on her face.<br>"That is where you are wrong Thea." My father said.  
>"Today is very important because today is the day of the Reaping." My father said and I was shocked that he remembered.<br>"I know I normally forget but this year is different. We have important business to discuss Athan and I know you and I do not bond enough, but all of that is about to change. You are becoming a man, and it is time for you to stop hiding in the shadows and take some responsibility.  
>"I need to take responsibility for what?" I said sounding clueless.<br>"Someday you will have to take over the Cole Fishing Company." My father said as if it was obvious.  
>"When I die who else will run the family business? This business has been a part of our family for several generations and it is not stopping at me." My father said pointing his fork.<br>I looked down at my plate for a moment trying to drown out my father's words.  
>"I think I need to leave before Peacekeepers start knocking on our door." I said getting up from the table and walking out the door.<br>No one said a word and neither of my parents tried to stop me.  
>I walked beside a lake that was only a few miles away from my house.<br>The lake is where I go to think or to be alone. The isolation is the only thing that can save me from my dysfunctional family.  
>I looked down at the fish underwater as they caused light ripples with their movements. My mind wondered back to my father's words during breakfast.<br>I refuse to be a part of Cole Fishing Company even if I have been around the fishing industry my entire life.  
>I walked past the lake and after several minutes passed, I was in the center of town.<br>There was an average amount of teenagers ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen standing in separate lines.  
>My finger print was scanned, and I was sent to the line for sixteen year old males. We all stood behind ropes facing the stage. I looked around for a moment and I noticed a female standing in the line for sixteen year old girls. We glanced at each other at the same time. I looked away quickly hoping she did not pay any attention.<br>"Good Evening," I heard a light feminine voice say. The woman appeared to be in her late twenties to early thirties. The Escort's hair was dark purple and she had purple gems sewn into her skin.  
>"I am sure that all of you are aware of the change in rules in this year's games, but I will show you a video with our President's speech." The Escort said.<br>The video was long and boring, and I found everything to be irrelevant.  
>"Now it is time to announce this year's tributes."<br>"Skylar Ciel," the Escort said and almost everyone in the crowd looked at Skylar. The girl I spotted in the crowd only a few minutes ago.  
>Her face seemed emotionless, but I could tell that she was just trying to hide her emotions. Skylar walked onto the stage, and a young man who appeared to be around the age of nineteen followed after her. I assumed he was her older brother. I saw him fighting against the Peacekeeper's and one of them pointed a gun at him.<br>"Stop!" I heard Skylar scream.  
>When her brother heard her scream, he surrendered.<br>"Alright, now it is time to announce our male tribute." The Escort said.  
>"Athan Cole," I heard the Escort say.<br>My breathing ceased for several seconds and my heart pounded against my ribcage.  
>My whole body felt numb, and it felt like a strong magnetic force was pulling me onto the stage.<br>All eyes were on me and I wished I was invisible.  
>When I stood on stage I looked out into the crowd, and my parents were nowhere in sight.<br>I scanned the crowd a little more and I noticed Carina standing with her mouth covered in shock. When our eyes met tears immediately started to run down her face. The despair painted on Carina's face and the genuine remorse in her eyes caused me to look away quickly.  
>I closed my eyes and held my head down in disgust.<br>"These are your District 4 tributes." The Escort said with enthusiasm.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Skylar (Sky)<strong> (iluviggyhesthebest)

I sat up with a yawn in my bed, stretching my arms into the air next to me, and accidentally hitting the person beside me.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" I muttered sleepily, then my eyes widened as I suddenly realized something.

"WHO'S IN MY ROOM?!" I yelled, jumping out of my bed and onto the floor, grabbing the first thing I saw, a hairbrush, and holding it in front of my face as a weapon.

The person who was next to me sat up with a tired yawn as well. His caramel colored hair was sticking out in a million places, and he was wearing only a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Morning Sky. Did I scare you?" He asked, already looking apologetic.

"Connie!" I squealed in surprise. "Wh-What were you doing in my bed?!"

"Well, you're just so pretty…" he said in a mock dreamy voice, reaching out to rub my head. I hit his hand with the brush, my cheeks turning slightly pink.

"I'm serious…." I mumbled, turning away from him. His smile faded a little.

"I'm just…. Worried…" he admitted sheepishly, his voice low. I tilted my head in confusion.

"But you're nineteen now….. you won't be called into the reaping," I replied, not understanding the situation. He shook his head.

"I'm worried about you, Sky," he amended. "What if….I never see you again?" I sighed.

"Connie, I've told you before that I'll be fine. I was so worried last year…. You took so much tesserae…. But you're out of the reaping this year! And I didn't take any. So we'll be fine," I assured my older brother, and he sighed like I had, running a hand through his knotted hair.

"All right, all right," he gave in, raising his hands in surrender.

"Good!" I replied, starting to smile. I looked at the clock, reading '10:07'. Mom left for work around four hours ago…. "It's only 10:07, so we should get dressed, eat, and maybe we can hang out at our spot and talk about things before the reaping. Umm…okay?"

He smiled, standing and planting a kiss on my head. "I'll get dressed and make breakfast while you shower and everything, all right?" I nodded in agreement as he walked off.

Although I was 15, Connie was so overprotective that I often felt as though I was younger. But that was okay with me.

I walked to the bathroom, turning on the water and letting it run for a few minutes, otherwise, it would be really cold. We owned a sink, toilet, and bath, the bath drained itself and brought water in from our well outside through some system Connie made. He was thinking about traveling to District 3 when he was older, because he had never been that into anything having to do with fishing.

Once the water was warm enough, I undressed, washed myself with soap for roughly 10 minutes, and got out, wrapping myself in a towel, and putting the clothes in a bin, something Connie had also designed. He was a very organized person.

I got back to my room, drying myself and hair. I combed it out; combing it straight back and braiding it straight down my back like I always do. Then I put on the navy blue dress, the only one I owned, that was plain except for the ruffles at the bottom. Finally, I put on a pair of black boots that made me about an inch taller.

I looked in the mirror, adjusting my hat that I got from Dad, or so I was told when I was little. Ever since the hat started fitting me, I wore it every day. It was purple, with navy blue stripes going down in a circular pattern starting from the top middle part of the hat. My face contained no makeup, my eyes were caramel colored like always, my hair light brown as always. Five and a half feet tall made me an "average" sized girl, along with the rest of me. Average.

I walked down the hall to the kitchen, where Connie was making breakfast. It smelled like eggs, and bacon, my favorite breakfast. Ironically enough, neither of us were very fond of seafood.

Connie turned, in a pair of jeans and a plain gray shirt. He gapped when he saw me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously, blushing a little absentmindedly.

He laughed lightly. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Connie," I smiled at him and he winked back, placing a plate of two fried eggs with three pieces of bacon in front of me.

"Hungry?" He asked, and I smiled.

"When there's bacon involved, the answer is always yes," I answered seriously. He laughed.

"I don't think anyone can argue with you there," he agreed, sitting next to me with two sunny side eggs and three pieces of bacon, his own preferred breakfast.

"Connie, hurry up! It's almost noon already!" I called out to my brother, running across the beach. The thing about the beach near our house is that the sand sticks together and never gets on your clothed, making it easy to lay in the sand and be perfectly clean when you stand up. And at the end was a little cove nobody seemed to know about.

Connie suddenly ran past me, sticking his tongue out. "Catch me if you can!"

"Hey!" I protested, running after him as fast as I could go. After a few minutes, I reached the cove a few seconds after he did, panting for breath.

"No… far…. Your legs… are longer," I panted out with each breath. He smirked.

"Come on," he gestured to the opening, and we both walked into the passage like we had a million times, which led out to a place with a small waterfall crashing down into a small lake, about eight feet wide and two feet deep, with the smell of salt in the air. It was peaceful; the sea breeze blowing against your face, the palm trees rustling with the wind as the small pillar of water trickled down. I ran over to my favorite spot, a plain white rock the size of a beach ball, and sat down comfortably. Connie sat next to me.

"I love this place," I smiled, opening up to my arms to the breeze. Connie laughed.

"Well, that's why we come here," he replied, watching the palm trees blowing in the breeze. Specifically, a bigger palm tree hovering over a smaller one…. Protecting it.

"What's wrong, Connie?" I asked, concerned.

"It's nothing. I…. just want to always protect you. But you're going to get older, and you'll live on your own, and you…. won't need me anymore," Connie sighed unhappily. I almost laughed.

"Is that all? Connie, I'll always need you. You're my brother and I love you. So don't say that," I answered, pushing his shoulder playfully.

"Well, it's that the way it is…" he smirked suddenly, looking at me. My face fell suddenly.

"What are you…-" I started, when he picked me up, fireman's carry style, and ran towards the pond.

"Nooooo! Connie, my dress! Don't throw me, don't throw me!" I started yelling over and over as he laughed.

He placed me back down. "You didn't really think I was going to throw you in, did you?"

I looked at him. He was roughly a foot away from the pond…. With a smirk mirroring his own, I pushed my brother as hard as I could.

"It…. It's still funny!" I managed to say in-between giggles. He sighed, shaking some more moisture off of his shirt, and hanging it over the fireplace, where a small fire was burning.

"It wasn't funny. It was cold," he stated and I giggled some more.

"It's only a half hour until the reaping start, and we live kind of far away…," I pointed out, looking at the clock. "So maybe we should leave soon."

Connie had already started walking into the other room. "Yeah, just let me change my shirt and pants, because a certain someone got them wet!"

"I wonder who that could possibly be?" I asked mockingly, and sat down on the couch to wait.

After a minute or so, he came back out with a plain dark green t-shirt, and dark blue jeans. "I'm ready, Sky. You want to eat anything else before you go?"

I shook my head. "The reaping won't take too long, we'll get something after."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, okay."

It took eighteen minutes to get there, and when we finally did, my knees ached. These shoes were not made for walking a mile on a badly paved street.

"You all right?" Connie looked at me in concern as we approached the "sign-in" spot.

"Yeah, it's just these shoes, they're not made for walking that much," I replied, and stuck my tongue out at the shoes. Connie smiled slightly.

"Okay then, you're going to sign in?" He looked over at the people sitting there, and I nodded. I walked up to the woman on the left, saying my name. She checked it off the list, held out a needle and pricked my finger, and then rubbed my blood onto some special pad.

"Ow…" I muttered, not meeting her eyes. I wasn't good at talking to…. Anyone really. Except for Connie.

"You're going to stand over there?" Connie asked, pointing over at the other fifteen year old girls.

"That's where I'm supposed to stand, yeah," I laughed softly, and hugged him. "You worry too much, Connie! Go stand with your "adult friends" and be happy, all right?"

"Well, if you want me to…." Connie muttered under his breath, and then nodded in agreement.

"Bye Birdy," he teased, calling me by my childhood nickname that I had made up for myself. Since my name was Sky, I always thought that I should become a bird and fly away into the sky.

"Bye Connie," I waved, walking over to the other fifteen year old girls.

"Now introducing our new escort this year, Amethyst," The mayor boomed, gesturing to the lady behind him.

I looked away, I didn't like looking at that things those Capitol people did to themselves. Who would sew jewels into their own skin…. Ouch….

My eyes locked on someone for a moment, a somewhat scrawny boy with black hair and glasses. He was standing in the sixteen year old section, although he looked younger.

As if sensing I was looking at him, he looked up, and our eyes met for a second. Then I blushed, and turned away, as did he.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" The woman on stage chirped in a strong Capitol accent. She had pale white skin, dark brown eyes, purple hair styled in something almost resembling an afro, with dark purple gems sewn into her skin all over her body. I rolled my eyes in annoyance at her voice.

"Now it's time for the first name…. Ooh! I'm so excited! All right, ladies first!" She continued, going over to the large glass bowl filled with thousands of paper slips, each holding a name, and picking one.

"All right!" Amethyst smiled, nobody smiling with her. "The name is…. Skylar Ciel."

Me?!

"That is quite a unique name," She commented with a smile, as I separated myself from the other girls, starting to walk up the side towards the stage.

I had one slip in there! One! Out of thousands!

"Ah! Darling, you're Skylar? Congratulations on being the female representing District 4 in the 68th Hunger Games! Unless, there are any volunteers….?" Amethyst asked expectantly, turning to the audience as I reached my spot, next to her.

Although this was a district who often had tributes in the Career Pack, there was only silence.

"Okay then, moving on to the boys-" She was cut off by a familiar voice.

"SKY!" The voice screamed.

"Connie…" My voice came out softer than a whisper. I had lied to him. I told him not to worry, I wouldn't be picked, and now….

"PLEASE! ANYONE BUT SKY!" Connie was still yelling, trying to get onstage. Three Peacekeepers were restraining him and they looked like they were having trouble.

"Can…. Can someone deal with this?" Amethyst asked, looking at the Peacekeepers around the audience. One of them subtlety nodded, taking out his gun and aiming it towards the still struggling Connie. My heart fell. They were going to shoot him.

"CONNIE!" I screamed, at the top of my lungs. "CONNIE, STOP! PLEASE! CONNIE, PLEASE STOP BEFORE YOU GET HURT!"

He looked shocked at what I had said, and then he noticed the gun pointed next him. He immediately backed off, getting shot wouldn't be good for anyone, but he looked regretful once he had done it. His eyes shone with tears, and I was struggling not to cry myself. I nodded at him, trying to look tough, and he turned away, tears freely flowing. I wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave the stage, I couldn't leave this destiny. I was going to die in the Hunger Games.

"Next name….. Athan Cole," Amethyst read off the piece of paper in my hand, and I saw a boy turn pale. The same boy from before…..

He walked up stiffly, looking like he was trying hard not to cry. I looked away from him, only to see a woman in the audience with her hand over her mouth, silent tears streaming down her face. His…. Mother?

Once the boy, Athan, reached the stage, he looked out into the audience to see the crying lady, and he frowned, looking down at his feet.

"Any volunteers?" Amethyst asked, sounding hopeful. But again, there was no sound.

"All right then! These are your tributes for the 68th Hunger Games, Skylar Ciel, and Athan Cole!" She announced, smiling at us. The audience clapped reluctantly, lasting for only a few seconds.

"Shake hands, you two," she nudged Athan and he stiffened, but looked up into my light brown eyes with his amber ones. He stuck out his hand, and I took it, shaking it firmly.

A few Peacekeepers came up and led us away, towards the Justice Building and into separate rooms.

"You can say your goodbyes in a minute," the Peacekeeper told me gruffly as he walked out, slamming the door behind him. My hands started shaking involuntarily.

"I don't want to die…." I whispered to myself, trying not to cry. If I cry, I'll look weak on the cameras.

"Sky!" Connie burst into the room, his eyes still wet with tears.

"Connie!" I cried out, launching myself into his arms.

"Only five minutes…" I muttered sadly. "Five minutes, and I'll never see you again!" The tears threatened to fall, and my voice squeaked with every word, but I refused to cry.

"No, Sky. You…. you can win. Just hide for the most part, and at the end, set a trap for the other person. I know killing is wrong, but it's the only way you'll come home," Connie told me, his arms still tight around me.

"But…. The Careers…." I mumbled, thinking about the ones we saw on TV. People who delighted in killing. Taunted their victims, and ripped them apart.

"You're fast, okay? Just run," he instructed. "I…I can't lose you, Sky."

"Connie, I don't want to go," I whispered, curling into a fetal position, breaking the hug.

"I don't want you to go, either," Connie's voice broke, and he started crying. I got up, and we wrapped our arms around each other, unable to do anything else.

"Your time's up," the bored Peacekeeper called out from the other side of the door.

"But…" I looked at my brother, and he frowned deeply.

"I'm so sorry….. but I'll see you again, Sky. Okay? You can win, okay?" He assured me, and I frowned.

"I-I'll try…." I answered softly, staring out the window, watching him from the corner of my eye. He nodded.

"See you later, Birdy," he smiled slightly, and I smiled a little in return.

"Yeah, see you later," I replied, and he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I heard yelling, the sound of a fist hitting someone, and then the sound of someone's feet running. I opened the door a crack to see a Peacekeeper with a bloody nose, and an angry expression, glaring after my brother.

But Connie was safe.

And I was far from it.


	6. District 5

**District Five**

**POV: Jason 'J.D' Danton **(glittergirl20)

I toss and turn. I can't sleep. It is justified because in a few short hours the reaping for the 68th Hunger Games will take place.

I hear my bedroom door creak open and see a small stream of light leak into my room.

"Big brother." I hear my younger sister whisper.

"Yes?" I say turning towards her

"What's tomorrow like? Is it scary?" She asks while walking over here. She bounces on my bed and sits next to me. Her hazel eyes stare at me intently waiting for my answer.

My sister recently turned twelve this will be her first reaping. I consider telling her the truth but I don't want to scare her.

"Don't worry Evita, nothing bad is going to happen." I say and stroke her chestnut hair.

"But-" She whispers. I think I can see tears forming in her eyes.

I pull her in for a hug.

"It may seem scary getting your blood taken and being herded around like animals but don't be fooled. It will be fine." I kiss the top of her head. "Besides, you, me, and Steven have never gotten tessera. We have that going for us." I say and she smiles.

It is true we never have had to put in our names more than necessary. To be fair most of the District hasn't. District Five is considered to be wealthy. That does make sense to me because our District is responsible for powering all of Panem. They need the citizens to be in relatively good spirits to power a nation.

"Okay?" I say and stroke her hair.

She hooks her arms underneath my shoulders and leans her head into my chest.

"Okay." She whispers.

* * *

><p>After talking to Evita I didn't get any sleep. I know fatigue probably is not the best thing especially if my name gets called but she made me worry. I always promised myself I would never let that happen but here I am picking at my toast too fearful to talk because my voice might crack.<p>

"Hey man." I hear my sixteen year old brother Steven say while walking to the kitchen.

I give him a nod.

"Heard you talking to Evita earlier." He says with disapproval in his voice.

"I wanted to make her feel better." I mumble.

His blue eyes look black. He is angry. Angry that I lied to our sister?

"Why are you angry?" I ask softly.

He runs his fingers through his blonde locks.

"You shouldn't lie to her. She shouldn't go into this thinking she might not see the arena."

"She isn't stupid Steven she knows that will be a choice."

"J.D come on man you know how much your word means to her. She practically worships you."

I roll my brown eyes.

"Let's be honest though, J.D if she got called in she would be dead." He counties

"I know." I grumble. "I also know I would be."

Steven rolls his eyes.

"Don't be such a downer you would have a chance."

"Look at me." I motion towards myself. I have a short lanky body, short brown hair, and brown eyes. I don't have features that would get me noticed or remembered. "I don't have a chance besides, fourteen year olds don't win." I mutter.

"Are you forgetting Finnick Odair? He was fourteen and he won." Steven says.

I involuntarily groan and roll my eyes.

"A) he is from a career District and clearly knew how to kill. B) Finnick Odair is totally obsessed by himself. I'm not him and don't want to be either."

Steven rolls his eyes.

"That may be true but I was just saying a fourteen year old has won before." He mumbles.

"There my boys are." Our Mom says while coming into the kitchen. She looks like Steven. Blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

"Hi Mom." We both say in unison.

"Now after breakfast you should get ready, the reaping will be in an hour." She says and walks out of the room probably to be with Evita. I remember for my first reaping she stayed within an arms length until I had to get checked in. I actually didn't mind it either. I think she does it more for her benefit than ours because deep down she knows we won't come back.

"Let's go man unless you are going to eat that piece of toast you have been picking at for the last ten minutes." Steven smiles. I roll mt eyes but know he's right. I crumble the toast in the napkin and toss it in the trash.

I head upstairs. Our house isn't anything special just a two story house with four bedrooms, a kitchen, a main room, and two bathrooms, it's the standard houses in District Five. In other Districts this type of house might not even exist.

I head upstairs into my bedroom which just has a bed and a desk I use for homework.

I see my Mom has already laid out my reaping outfit. It is just nice slacks and a button up shirt. I think the girls have more options than the boys. After I dress I hear the clock chime. There's only twenty more minutes till the reaping.

"Let's go children." My Mom shouts.

I head to the foyer and see Steven is wearing a similar outfit to mine except his shirt is green. I see Evita wearing a soft pink dress and her blonde hair is up in a high pony tail.

"You look nice." I tell her.

"Thanks." She whispers while twirling a loose strand of her dress.

"Don't worry it will be over before you know it." Steven says.

She nods.

"Alright head down everything will be fine." Our Mom says.

"You'll be watching won't you." Evita says worried.

"Of course I will." She says and kisses her forehead.

We head down to the square. I can see the madness that is there. Capitol people and cameras everywhere, peacekeepers at the check in station, and of course the betting board. The board of chances of whose name will get called.

I head to the table to get check in. I get my finger pricked and stand next to all the other fourteen year old boys.

I close my eyes and breathe in and then back out.

"Welcome! Welcome District Five to the 68th reaping for the Hunger Games." I hear the shrill voice of our escort shout into the microphone.

I open my eyes and see her, Lala Contour. She is a skinny little thing especially to be from the Capitol.

She is covered with pearls. I think they are plastered into her skin. She is also wearing an odd amount of pink. Her whole skin has a light touch of pink.

"Now let's get started by a nice video from the Capitol!" She shouts and I roll my eyes.

She shows the same video every year. Some cheesy video saying why this happens and all the glory that comes along with winning.

"Wasn't that marvelous!" She shouts and claps her hands together. "Now for the reaping!" She squeals. "Let's start with the boys!" She says and walks slowly to one of the glass bowls.

She reaches her hand in and I notice how long her nails are. They are more like claws. I wonder how she can accomplish anything with nails that long.

She grabs a piece of paper and walks back to the microphone.

"The male tribute for the 68th Hunger Games is…"

Not me. I think.

"Jason Danton!" She beams into the microphone.

My legs feel wooden and all the saliva in my mouth has disappeared. I ball my hands into fists and start walking towards the stage.

I mount the stage and smile into the camera.

"How does it feel darling to be the honored tribute for District 5?" Lala asks. She reeks of some perfume she is wearing way too much.

"There are no words to describe how I feel." I say in a dead pan voice.

"Very well! Now for the girls!" She shouts.

She walks slowly to the girls bowl.

"Elizabeth Storm!" She beams.

A girl from the 18 section comes out. I'm surprised she is eighteen because of how small and petite she is. She has blonde hair and green eyes and is also very pale. I wonder if she ever goes outside.

The girl looks confused but also happy. I wonder why she would be happy… I doubt a girly girl like this would want to be in the games.

"How does it feel Elizabeth do be the tribute for this years Hunger Games?" Lala asks.

"I don't know but at least all eyes are on me." She smiles.

"Splendid! Now shake hands you two!" Lala shouts with glee.

We do and then we get escorted to the Justice Building to say goodbye to our loved ones but I don't want to say goodbye. Not really... because I know tears will be on everyone of my families faces and I don't want to see that. I don't want that to be my last memory of them but sadly I think it will be.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Elizabeth 'Lissa' Storm <strong>(copaceticbaby)

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I groan and turn over. I don't want to wake up early today. I don't care if it is the reaping or not. I don't think I need to look extra pretty today or not besides, it's not like my name would get called. Me, Lissa Storm getting called into. I laugh at the thought.

Here in District Five everyone important knows that I get what I want. No if ands or buts. I'm sure if I did get called one of my many friends would volunteer for me.

I hear my bedroom door barge open and I bolt up.

"Lissa! You must get ready! You will have to look nice if your name gets called." My Mom says.

"Mom my name won't get called and if it does someone will take my place." I smile

"Lissa-

"Besides, I don't care how I look. You should respect that Mom."

She smiles and starts walking towards me. She sits on the bed next to me and rubs her fingers through my hair.

"Okay sweetie. I'm sure your right you have copious amounts of friends." She smiles.

"You're right I do." I smile.

"You should get up though Brendan will be here soon." She says with a smile.

"Yay!" I clap my hands together and jump out of bed.

Brendan is my boyfriend of two years. He loves me and I… tolerate him. The relationship is more one sided but I'm sure he has figured that out by now. I'm the only important person in the relationship anyways.

"See that gives you a reason to look nice." My Mom smiles.

"Mommy please Brendan will never leave me, he loves me too much. Besides his goal in life is to make sure I'm happy." I smile which is true that is his life goal.

"Okay sweet pea." She says and walks out of my room.

I head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I look at myself in the mirror. I am rather beautiful people tell me this all the time and who am I to argue? With my hair as bright as gold my eyes that gleam like emeralds, and how fair my skin is. I am the example of a perfect specimen.

However, I do have one flaw, that I am so short. People mistake me to be fifteen when in reality I am eighteen. It's my last year for the reaping not that it matters. My name won't get called and if it does I have dozens of friends who would volunteer for me.

I decide on a soft blue dress. I am wearing my hair down with a headband. It isn't worth my time to try and look nice for today. Besides, I look nice everyday.

I head downstairs with a smile on my face. I see the breakfast laid out for today and it is rather bleak this morning. Just some eggs and toast. It is usually an assortment of pastries, toast, fresh juice, muffins, and many types of eggs. Not just scrambled eggs and toast on a small plate.

"What's this?" I ask as my Father comes into the room.

"It's called breakfast Lissa." He smiles.

"Where's the muffins?! Pastries?! And I despise scrambled eggs you know this Daddy." I complain.

"Lissa today your Mother and I think-

"But Daddy, I thought what I wanted came first." I say and stick out my bottom lip.

He sighs.

"You know reaping day is different Lissa. We try and keep it on level playing ground in case you get called."

I roll my eyes.

"I shouldn't get punished because other families are poor. Just get me what I want Daddy. If my name does get called I might never get a proper home breakfast." I say.

He sighs.

"I guess you are right." He says and heads to the kitchen.

"That's better." I whisper to myself.

I hear a knock on the door and rush to open it.

"Brendan!" I say with glee and jump into his arms.

"Hi Lissa." He says and kisses the top of my head.

I back off and smile at his beauty. Nice strong build, dark hair, and dark eyes.

"So what do you have for me?" I smile. He is supposed to get me something nice everyday to show how much he cares for me. He usually gives the best I love you gifts.

"I'm going to give it to you later, it is best celebrated at dusk." He smiles and kisses my cheek.

"It better be good then." I mutter and we head back into the kitchen where my usual breakfast is set out.

"So you nervous for today Lissa?" He asks. He sounds nervous. He is nineteen so he must be worried for me. Which is silly, I won't see an arena.

"Of course not. I know someone else will take my place."

He sighs.

"What if someone doesn't?" He says slightly annoyed.

I laugh at the thought.

"Don't be silly I have lots of friends and they would all fall on a sword for me." I smile and take a bite from my muffin.

"But Lissa-"

"None of that you don't argue with me-"

"Because I'm always wrong?" He smirks.

"Exactly." I say and kiss his cheek.

He rolls his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. I think I offended him somehow.

"No Lissa nothing." He says and kisses me.

"Good." I say with a smile.

We eat and he leaves shortly after to be with his seventeen year old brother. In case something bad happens and his name gets called.

I sigh and leave the house to visit my best friend Bethany. I skip to her house and she smiles when she sees me.

"Hey Lissa." She says.

"Hello." I smile. I notice her right leg is twitching and she can't stop twirling her black hair. "What's wrong?" I ask worried.

"The reaping is today Lissa… I'm scared my name will get called."

"Don't be so ridiculous your name isn't anymore than it needs to be so I wouldn't worry."

"It doesn't matter how many times my name is in… it can still happen that is why twelve year olds-"

"Relax we have money and-"

"Lissa for this it doesn't matter." She mutters.

"Don't worry you have friends and if they love you they wouldn't want to see you go." I smile.

She looks at me dumbfounded.

"They can still love you Lissa… but they probably won't volunteer because-"

"Maybe that is how you feel but not me." I stand up not wanting to hear her babble on about something so ludicrous. "It was nice seeing you Bethany I will see you after all this nonsense is over with." I say. She shakes her head and smiles.

I start to head into town to make sure I can get checked in fast because that means I will be able to get checked out fast. I get my blood taken and head towards the eighteen section. In a few minutes the rest of the District comes in.

A few minutes later our escort Lala Contour walks on stage. She looks beautiful just like every year. I admire her fashion and makeup that is one thing I love about the Capitol. Her nails are very long I suspect they have intricate designs on them. Why else would they be so long?

In too busy admiring her pink skin, pearls and, clothes that I don't even hear the boys name. I just see some short fourteen year old walk to the stage. He is moping about how he is going to the arena.

He will probably die, too bad he doesn't have a friend who cares enough about him to volunteer. I think.

"Now for the girls!" Lala squeaks.

Finally after this I can go home and see the I love you gift Brendan got for me today.

"The female tribute representing District Five in the 68th Hunger Games is Elizabeth Storm."

I sigh and wait a few moments to hear someone volunteer for me but no one does.

They probably will once you're on stage. I think.

I get forcefully dragged to the stage and am standing next to Lala who smells like lilies. I wish I could smell that good.

"Any volunteers?" She asks.

I look out in the crowd. I'm waiting for one of my many friends to speak up but… none of them are. I'm confused because I am the most important person of our group and possibly in the whole District so why isn't anyone jumping at the gun to save me.

Why isn't anyone saving me?!

"Very well I present you with this years tributes Jason Danton and Elizabeth Storm. Now shake hands!" Lala exclaims.

I stand still in shock.

What is happening! I'm not supposed to be here! Why didn't those fools save me! I think.

I get dragged into a small room in the Justice Building to say my goodbyes but I don't want to see any of them because they didn't do anything to save me. Me.


	7. District 6

**District Six**

**POV:Wade Baxwell **(jul312)

"Mitch, wake up buddy." I attempt to shake my brother awake, grinning as he lets out a particularly loud snore.

"Alright, I guess I'll just eat your breakfast then." He emits another snore, but this time I can tell he's awake when he isn't able to hold back a giggle. I ruffle his head and laugh as he swats away my hand. Mitch sits up and we lock eyes, the mood instantly growing sober as we realize what day it is.

I scold him for getting up late, but I manage to give him a small smile. Both of us silently agree not to mention the reaping unless absolutely necessary. It's my younger brother's second year eligible for the reaping, and it's my second to last. In two years, when I'm nineteen and safe from the hands of the Capital, I'll still be worrying about Mitch.

That's the problem with having family and friends in Panem. You may be safe, but chances are someone you love is not. No one ever is, in Panem.

My dad calls me down to the kitchen, and I quickly slide on my dressiest shirt over my curly hair. I scarf down the breakfast in front of me, eager to eat the best breakfast of the year. I don't know why it's a tradition to go all out on reaping day, but I figure it's good to splurge in case you're about to be sent to your death. If you ask me, it's pretty stupid, considering the treatment the tributes get in the Capital. A silly breakfast at home will pale in comparison to the ten course meals. Although, I don't think anyone would choose food and likely death over a miserable life in the districts, except the Careers.

An hour later, I'm standing in the middle of the town center amidst the other seventeen-year-olds. I stand on the tip of my toes, hoping to catch a glimpse of my girlfriend Rayne. Her dirty blonde hair is easy to spot; her thick hair has been pulled into a huge bun on top of her head that stands tall above the other girls. I am not able to see her face, but I can picture the frown on her face and the worry in her blue eyes. I'm relatively tall, but it's still hard to spot others in the crowd. District Six is by far the largest district of the twelve.

"Good evening lovelies!" The screechy voice of our escort, Matrix, comes through the microphone, creating a loud, high pitched noise that has most of the audience covering their ears. Once again, we are forced to watch a long and dull video about the rebellion. I wouldn't doubt if everyone zones out for this part of the reaping, except the twelve year olds who are experiencing their first time. With one look at their section, my suspicions are confirmed. Their gazes are fixated on the screen, as if the names of the tributes would pop up any second. But they don't, and the video ends eventually.

Tall, pink, and glittery Matrix strides over to the center of the stage where two gigantic bowels are placed side by side. Reaching into the first one, she swirls her fingers around while repeatedly asking the girls in the crowd if they are excited.

She pulls out the slip and pulls it apart with her creepy nails. I hold my breath, fingers crossed that it wouldn't be Rayne's name called. Martix calls out an unfamiliar name, and I am filled with a sickening sense of relief. It disgusts me that I was happy for this girl's unfortunate situation, but I can't help the warm feeling that washes through me when Rayne is safe, even if it's just for one more year.

My thoughts wander back to Rayne, and I reflect on our relationship. We had been best friends since a young age, as our families were very close. At age fifteen I noticed how nervous I became around her, and how jealous she got when I flirted with one of the other girls in our class. After the Reapings last year I had finally worked up the courage to ask her out. I find myself glancing over to her section again, just to make sure she is actually okay.

I miss the name of the girl who was reaped, but I watch as she makes her way to the stage. The camera zooms in on her face, projecting it on the big screen. Her eyes are wide with fear, but at least she is strong enough to hold back her tears.

Before I know it, Matrix calls out the name for the unlucky male tribute. Against all odds, it is my name I hear being called. My brain feels foggy and I know that it won't hit me until later. With a deep breath, I push through the crowd, determined not to be escorted by the Peacekeepers. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. With a charming smile, I climb the steps to the stage and stand in the directed spot. Although I'm dying on the inside, I don't show it. Every time I flashed girls a charismatic smile or charmed my way to a better grade, I was training for this. If getting people to like me is my only skill, then I will use it to my advantage.

It's the only advantage I have, after all. I'm doomed.

Goodbyes are much harder than I imagined they would be. After a few friends from school, Rayne comes in and flings herself into my arms. Surprisingly, she isn't crying, but I can tell that she wants to. Her strong personality makes me proud, and I hug her tight.

"It will be okay, you have to believe." I mummer into her hair, wrinkling my nose as her bun tickles my face. I pull away and hold her at arm length, searching her eyes for some sign of hope. When she says nothing, I sigh and tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear. We aren't a very touchy couple, but I want to show her how I feel. It's interesting how tongue tied I am around her, even though I'm known for my smooth talking around other girls. It makes me confident that she's the one for me, even though it doesn't matter now unless I come back alive.

Rayne pecks me on the lips before telling me she loves me. What should be a happy moment only feels sad given the circumstances.

"It's our one year anniversary," She laughs, though her eyes are watery. "Please don't make it our last." She pulls me in for another hug and hold her as close as possible.

"I'm coming home." I promise her firmly, tears threatening to fall from my own eyes. I hate myself for being so sensitive, but Rayne knows me well enough that she would see through any façade I tried to put on.

We stay like this for a while. When she is taken away by the peacekeepers, I feel empty.

Mitch and my dad enter next, and both look miserable. My younger brother doesn't say much, but I don't mind. The last moments with them are precious, and I do everything I can to savor them.

I promise everyone I'll come home, and I know I will be able to keep it. I just don't know whether I will come home alive, or nailed into a coffin with my broken body inside.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Kathrine Bent (Kat)<strong> (Warriorwitch13)

"Kat, darling its time to get up. Today's the Reaping dear." I slowly opened my eyes to see my mother standing in the doorway to my room. Rolling over and looking out my window I seen the sun was already well up.

"Yes mum. I'm coming"

"Your dress is in your closet" She said walking out of my room.  
>Sighing and standing up I stretch my sleepy muscles, I walk over to the other side of my room and pull out the mid-thigh length pale pink dress.<p>

'Joy...The reapings...Just lovely' I think to myself.

The Reapings are apart of the many-stepped process of The Hunger Games. The Hunger Games is the Capitols way of saying 'HA we own you and you're  
>going to do what ever we say because you cant do anything about it!'. Basically they have 12 districts. And they take a boy and girl from each from the ages 12-18 and put them into an arena and they fight to the death until theres only one left alive. Now the reapings is the first step. That's where they choose there 'lucky' boys and girls. Everyone is required to be there but not participate, only 12-18 year olds have to do that...And since I'm only 15...Well yeah.<p>

Its not like I'll get picked, my name is only in the bowl once. One time with the other hundred plus names of girls. I also just so happened to be the only one  
>in my family eligible to go into the games. Everyone else is 19 or older or in my nephews case 3.<p>

"Katherine come on your breakfast is getting cold hun!" My mother calls to me from our kitchen. Sighing deeply I walk into my kitchen.

My house was a decent size for who was living in it. My family made enough money to get by, but we weren't rich. I live with my Mum and Dad, Brother, Sister, and baby nephew. Mum and Dad share a room, My sister and nephew share a room, and my brother and I each have our own rooms. So like I said-  
>its decent.<p>

I sit down and pull a piece of toast onto my plate and start nibbling on it.

"Katherine eat!" My mother scolded me.

"I'm not hungry." I never ate much on reapings. If I did then I would eat myself  
>sick.<p>

Sighing at me my mum picked up the plates of everyone else. Just then my dad walked in. Dressed in nice but not fancy clothes.

"You ready kat?" he looked at me with a blank face. He was always like this around the reapings. Everyone seemed to act different.

"Yes I guess so. But where is everyone else..?"

"There already there." My mother answered for my dad.

Standing up and just not replying I started for the door my parents coming after me.

"After the reaping we'll make your favorite for lunch dear," My mum said as we walked down the street.

I didn't live far from District 6's town center. It was about a 4-5 minute walk. One I prefered silence in.

"Okay mum, dad...I'm going to check in I'll see you two after okay?" Not waiting for a  
>reply since I was already one of the last ones there I walk up to the stands.<p>

"Name" The capitol lady said as she grabbed my hand and pricked my finger. "Katherine Bent" Flipping some pages to find my name she pushed my finger  
>against the paper then scanned the bar next to it.<p>

"Alright we should be starting here in about 5 minutes so go get in your section hun." The lady said giving me a cheery look.

Turning around and looking at the taped off areas for the kids elidgable for the reapings I seen boys and girls of all different ages. Some had looks of blank expressions on their faces. They were the older ones. The newer kids had tears streaming down their faces...some letting out sobs. I hated this. The games. All the Capitol is doing is killing off their own people...Every year 23 kids die.

Suddenly a peackeeper grabbed my arm and shoved me into the small group of 15 year old girls I was standing next to just as Matrix, District 6's escort, had started walking onto the stage. Everything became quite.

"Good evening lovelies!" Her high pitched voice came through the microphone

"Welcome to the 68'th annual Hunger Games! Now before we begin we are going to watch a video that the Capital has so kindly sent over for you all to watch." She guestures to the huge white screen behind her and walks to the side of the stage.

This is the same crap video they play  
>every year. About how disrict 13 tried to rebel and the Capital destroyed them and how that thats the reason we are doing the games today. The capital makes us watch this every year so we know why were doing what were doing...Even though we see it every year they act like we don't know the reasons.<p>

Looking over to Matrix I see she's wearing a really fancy pink and glittery outfit with a matching top hat and heals that I would kill  
>myself walking in.<p>

'Gosh how do the Capital ladies to that? Where six inch heals or higher?' I thought to myself.

I start to shake my head when I realize the video is over and Matrix was back at the mic.

"Isn't it just amazing darlings?" she says with joy. "Well now lets get going on. Ladies first to be polite!" She waddles over to the  
>jar and starts fishing around. I stop paying attention when she starts asking us if we're excited. Wishing this would be over already, I just want to go home.<br>I'm in the middle of a huge sigh when I hear something I never though I would have heard ever in my life.

No.

I HOPED I never would of heard.

"Katherine Bent. Where are you darling? Come on now!" I just stare at her shocked. Numb.

Suddenly someone gives me a little push from behind and I realize what just happend. I was just reaped. I'm going into the Games. Slowly I walked forward and onto the stage, I see they have zoomed in on my face, my eyes were wide with fear. I want to cry so bad. But I use all the strength I could not to.

If I cry now they will think I'm weak. And if they think I'm weak then I will go down quickly. I don't bother looking up because I already know my family will be who I see and if I see them then I won't be able to keep it in. Even if I don't really interact with them much, it will still hurt.

"Oh what a pretty little thing arn't ya!" Matrix says though I barely pay her any attention.

"Now for the males." she does the same thing as for the girls-walkes over gets a name walked back and- "This years male tribute will be... Wade Baxwell! Well come on Darlin"

I look up just out of the corner of my eye to see an older kid from the 17 year olds walking up. At first, only for a split second, you see a let down face. But them he puts on the same fake face as I have on. Only his looks better. He has a smile on his face and as he walkes to the stage he is flashing the camera and the other girls his age that cute boy-ish grin.

"Well there you have it guys and gals- Disrtict 6's 68'th annual Hunger Games Tributes!"

Everyone claps and looking up for the first time I seen the relieved faces of those who wernt picked. I still don't search the back croud for my family though.  
>After that me and Wade are being pushed into the Town Center building and into seperate rooms.<p>

I begin my crying. My family burst through the door. All except the baby are crying.

"Oh Kat" My mother cries into my sholder. My dad standing over us with his hand on my back.

"Mom, Dad." I shudder at the thought that this is probably the last time I will ever see them. "I love you guys so much."

Moving on to my brother and sister we just stand there, in each others arms. "Take care okay?" Both nodding their heads I give them hugs good-bye. Finally giving my last good-bye to my nephew the peacekeepers come and order my family away.

"I love you guys!" I scream to them just as the door closes. Drying my face up as best as I could so I don't let them see me week I take one look out the window at my district-You could see it all from here.

"Good-bye district 6" I whisper to myself just as the peacekeepers comein to escort me to the car thats going to take me to the train station.

**Warriorwitch13 A/N Hey guys this is my first chapter and (for me) my first fan fiction. So I hope you like it. Review and if you haven't already Follow and Favorite! *Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Hunger Games that is in this EXCEPT my OC Kat.***


	8. District 7

**District Seven**

**POV: Axle** (Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived)

I woke up the morning of the reaping on my little woven mat in the lumberyard, shaking the dirt from my hair. This has become a custom of mine, waking up when I want to, cleaning myself up as best I can, and going to work. There's no tragic accident of my life that forced me to live the way I do, I do it because I like it. Roughly a year ago, I became sick of the normalities of the way I'm expected to act, so I branched off on my own.

Everyday, I became more and more exasperated by the teachings of my parents and, frankly, the district in general, so I took some time to find myself. All this time, I'd been led on to believe things that made no sense. How could there possibly only be one God? There's just no way a single being, no matter how powerful could control everything. Not to mention the gaping holes left in science. Even if it turns heads and makes people think I'm mental, I follow an ancient belief where I see nature as a whole as a divine force, and there isn't anything controlling it. Except the fairies and the dragons.

I always just wished I could do my own thing and not have people regard me like I'm mental. I mean, who actually decided on the concept of 'normal' anyway? And maybe it's not that I'm weird. Is it at all possible that I'm completely normal and everyone else is just in the wrong ear? Or is the more likely explanation that I'm wrong. But then what defines right and wrong?

The whole concept is enough to give me a headache, so I don't think much of it, I just go with whatever it is that feels right. And today, it feels right to go to the square for food. I root around for a few seconds until I come across the leather pouch that holds my coins and think 'Screw it, it's reaping day,' and decide to spend the rest of my money on good food.

The square is about a half hour walk, and I try to avoid he weird stares I get on the way. It's not often that people like me have the guts to go out in public, so I recognize that I must be a bit of a spectacle, but I don't think I warrant disapproving glances from people I used to know, or mothers moving with toddlers to the other side of the street as I approach. I'm a convert, not an animal.

Once I get to the square, I go to the bakery for a muffin, then to a fruit stand for a banana and some juice. I eat at a little table that no one is near, and when I'm done, I walk over to the reaping area, and wince as a Peacekeeper takes a blood sample. I go to my section and stand alone until the reaping begins. I tune out most of it until I hear "Ladies first."

The escort reaches the stage, walking across to the microphone near the girls' reaping bowl. Her bright green hair blows no the wind and makes her red eyes look even redder

"Welcome, District 7, to the reaping for the 68th annual Hunger Games," she says, excitedly. "As usual, ladies first!" She digs around the bowl for a bit and selects a slip near the top. "Our lucky young lady this year is... Rowan Weisman!"

A startled looking girl from the 13 year old section emerges from the crowd and makes her way up to the stage.

"Now, for the men." The escort reaches into the other bowl, this time selecting a slip from the very bottom. She unravels it slowly, and says "Axle Oakley," with a smile.

Shit

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Rowman<strong> (Evan-Gray)

I am sitting in my kitchen while my mom makes breakfast. One of the only days that she makes tasteful food. The reaping. "Good morning, Ro," my father says from the table. Of course, my real name is Rowan, Rowan Weisman, but my father calls me Ro for short.

"Mornin'," I say, sniffing in the bacon and eggs.

"I laid out a dress for you. It's on your bed," My mother mumbles, she's not a very loud person like the rest of my family. I nod and head to my room.

I see a beautiful dark blue dress that goes to my ankles, tan oxfords, and my mothers' earrings. My mother said that her father had carved those earrings for her twelfth birthday. When I'm dressed, I head back into the kitchen.

"You look just like your mother," My father says, as if I haven't heard that before. Apparently, I'm the 'spitting image' of my mother, but I don't see it.

My brother, Aspen, on the other hand looks like both of my parents. My fathers nose and build. My mothers sharp green eyes and brown hair. Sadly, Aspen died in the 65th Hunger Games. I think the winner was from district four. Finnick was it? Anyways, I was ten when he died and I still can't get over his death. He was tortured, stabbed and bled to death. A job of the Careers.

My mother and father walk me to the square to sign me in. The finger pricking stings at first, but it isn't any worse than getting a shot. I walk to the section where all the thirteen-year-olds stand.

I see my best friend, Ivy Nordhoff, with tears streaming down her face. "Hey, it's okay, Ivy," I say, rubbing her back.

"I know. It's just… My family made me sign up for tesserae since I'm the oldest," She cries, more tears rolling down her cheeks. I see our escort, Blye Herriot, walk onto the stage.

"Welcome!" Blye shouts, adjusting her wig. "One lucky boy and girl will participate in the 68th Annual Hunger Games!" She shouts with a big, fake, white grin. Blye clears her throat, "Ladies first." She shoots her hand into the bowl with all the girls names in it and grabs a slip. "Rowan Weisman!"

I literally feel my heart drop. I see Ivy getting ready to volunteer, but I stop her.

"Don't. You have more to live for," I say and walk to the stage.

"Now, for the men," She grabs a slip and opens it.

"Axle Oakley," she says.

I see a boy, about sixteen or seventeen, walk to the stage. He has ash blonde hair, big hazel eyes, and a muscular build. He is handsome, but I can't think like that. In a couple of days, he'll be trying to kill me.

"This years tributes of the 68th Annual Hunger Games! Rowan Weisman and Axle Oakley!"

The peacekeepers lead me to a room where I will be saying goodbye to my family, possibly for the last time.


	9. District 8

**Buckley's POV **(Glossy-12)

My eyes fly open when I realize what today is. The Reaping. I'm not worried. I barely take any tessera. There is a small part of me that is still terrified that our escort will pull my name from the bowl.

I bolt downstairs, skipping a few steps. My parents are sitting in our kitchen where we prepare and eat our meals. I smile at them and give them a small nod. We don't talk much, it is more of a unspoken bond that comes from sharing the same blood rather than a family. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and sit eating at the countertop.

When I look out the window, I see dozens of children and their families making their ways towards the square. I should probably be on my way soon, but I tend to take my time with things. I'm not worried about being late. Even if I am late, I will just slip. They won't notice unless my name was pulled, and in that case how much worse could it get?

I head back upstairs and look at myself in the mirror. I'm not a terrible looking guy, but I'm no Finnick. I'm fairly muscled, all natural, I don't have enough time or dedication to work out. My body is lean however since I don't have a huge abundance of food. I'm not horribly skinny like some of those kids from 11 or 12. My hair isn't very long and is cropped to one side. It's a dirty blonde. My eyes are a light hazel, a rarity here in District 8.

I pull on a blue dress shirt and a pair of jeans. We don't have enough money to get dress pants, and in my opinion, jeans look just fine. My mother is fussy about it, but my dad just reasons with her and tells her that we don't have the money for dress pants. Even if we did have the spare money, why would we spend it on pants? Better food and more of it couldn't hurt.

I start to walk downstairs and then I see the clock. The Reaping started three minutes ago! I sprint out of my house and I am already halfway down the street before I realize I am just in my socks in terms of shoes. I guess I'll have to make do with that. I hear the girl's name called out through the speakers. Something like Belle Taylor. I don't recognize the name which is a good thing. Better a stranger than a friend of mine. I pick up my speed and careen into the square right as the escort says my name.

All I do is bend over and puke. The peacekeepers are looking for me, and since they can't find me, they start asking around. Then a boy points

"Hey, that's Buckley over there." The peacekeepers come over the pick me up and drag me to the stage. Once I get to the stage, I reach my hand out to Belle and her face twists in disgust when she sees the puke on my hand.

This is going to suck.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Belle <strong>(insert meaningful phrase here)

My parents gave me a new dress this year, because the store's been doing well and Mom wanted to a chance to sew something again. She says she's been spending so long selling cloth that she's almost forgot how to work with it.

It's a really nice dress. It's not too long and not too fancy and doesn't have frills, which I really love, and it's this nice pearl color that manages to be beautiful and understated at the same time. Mom wanted to make it purple, at first, but I convinced her that pearl would look better.

It makes me sad that I'll only wear this beautiful dress on Reaping days, but I'm not one for dwelling on sad things, so I run downstairs to where my parents are still sitting at the table.

Mom laughs when she sees me and clasps her hands in delight. "It's beautiful!" she says, and adds, "I'm glad I haven't lost my touch."

Dad says, "You'll never lose your touch, dear," and leans in to kiss her with a chuckle.

"Not in front of the children!" I squeak, covering my eyes. Both of them laugh, and when I look at them again, they've broken apart and are smiling at me.

I love my parents, but sometimes I wish that they didn't kiss or grope each other in front of others nearly as much as they do right now. It could be part of a parental code somewhere: "All parents must do something that embarrasses their children, no matter how good of a parent you may be."

But that's neither here nor there, so I stop thinking about that and twirl instead.

The dress flows out beautifully when I twirl. Mom and Dad clap, and when I stop, they both come and hug me.

"It's brilliant," says Mom, and when she pulls away there's something glistening in the corner of her eye. "You won't get Reaped-"

"And good riddance, too," Dad mutters under his breath,

"-but even if you did, you'd stun everyone with your beauty."

"They'd be so stunned they'd kill themselves to let you win," Dad adds solemnly.

I smile, but my stomach's started to roil. I hate thinking about the Games. I hate thinking about the Reaping. Most of the year, I can ignore it and pretend it doesn't happen. When I watch the Games, I have to pretend it's just a movie, another thing fabricated by the Capitol to entertain Capitol children. Otherwise, I don't think I'd be able to watch it and stay sane.

It's harder to avoid thinking about it on Reaping Day, especially when my parents keep bringing it up.

"I think that it's just the dress," I tell them. "It's so beautiful it's messing with your minds."

They laugh again, and then Dad says, "Oh, Belle," and ruffles my hair.

"Hey!" I say indignantly, but it's more for show than actual indignation. Dad smiles and apologizes but doesn't take his hand away.

"What time is it?" he asks Mom.

She says, "We'd better get going."

* * *

><p>By the time they prick my finger for entrance, I'm already sweating. I hate it. The clamminess just works to make me feel even more nervous, and I fervently wish that it doesn't seep through and stain my beautiful dress.<p>

The feeling in the town square on Reaping day is always stifling. Everyone in the District is milling about, but the conversation is muted and there's just a depressing air over the whole place. Everyone just wants to get it over with, send two unfortunate-

I don't want to think about that, so I bring myself back to the present and go to my section.

"Belle!" someone calls out when I get into the section cordoned off for 15-16 year olds.

"Myrrh!" I call back, and she slips through the crowd towards me.

"How's it going?" she asks me once she's disentangled herself from the mass of people. She's wearing a gold dress - the same one as last years - but it's beautiful and complements her dark skin tone nicely.

I smile. "It's pretty good," I say. "Mom made me a new dress."

She says, "I can see that," and grins at me. "It's awesome! It's a nice color, too, although I thought you'd go for a more earthy tone."

I wrinkle my nose. "Brown is good for hair, but not for clothing," I say.

Myrrh nods. "Don't agree with it, but I see where you're coming from."

There's the sound of someone tapping the microphone and a throat clearing, so we hurriedly stop talking and face the stage.

The District 8 escort, Iovita, is on stage. She's not bad, as far as escorts go - her voice isn't as chirpy as a lot of others and her sense of fashion is on the tame side of Capitolwear. Today, for instance, she's wearing what looks like a glittery denim suit instead of some monstrosity of a dress.

Myrrh says that we're really lucky on the escort front. "We've got the only escort in Panem who cares less about this than we do," she told me last year.

I didn't see it. "I don't know. She seems like every other escort out there, just with less blinding dresses."

Myrrh had rolled her eyes at me. "No, you idiot," she said - "you've got to listen to the tone. And she's not even a she."

"Of course she's a she; she looks like a she. And what tone?" I'd asked, but she had just sighed and waved me off.

"Welcome to the 68th Hunger Games," Iovita intoned into the microphone. She, like all other escorts, had the same kind of chirpy Capitol accent, but her voice was thankfully a lot more muted than the average escort. "I know you're all insanely excited to start drawing out names of the lucky children this year, but we first must watch the absolutely delightful video the Capitol has so kindly given for me to show you."

Beside me, Myrrh snickers.

"What?" I ask her, annoyed.

"It's all in the tone," she whispers back, which makes so little sense that I just huff at her and turn my attention back to the flatscreen.

It's the same video they show every year, about the history of Panem and the Dark Days and the installation of the Hunger Games. It had been interesting the first three times or so. By the tenth, it had gotten really old.

When the video ends, Iovita's back at the mic. "How educational and inspiring," she says.

"She doesn't sound very inspired to me," I whisper to Myrrh.

She smiles mysteriously at me. "I told you - it's all in the tone," she says again.

I still don't understand it, but Iovita's reaching a hand into the first glass bowl, so I don't ask Myrrh to explain further.

She swirls her fingers around agonizingly slowly. I feel myself starting to sweat again, a cold chill running down my spine. I try to stop thinking about it, to think about other things instead - my dress, the lunch my parents will have prepared for today. It's so hard to try and zone out when Iovita's on stage right in front of me, slowly opening up the slip of paper in her hand.

"Belle Taylor?" Iovita calls out, and my stomach plummets to the ground.

Myrrh's got a hand on my shoulder, like she can't decide whether to push me forward or keep me back. I've watched previous Reapings. I know what happens when a tribute doesn't walk on stage, so I shake her hand off and step out of the section.

"There she is," Iovita says. It sounds like she's underwater, slow, sluggish.

I'm glad I'm not crying. The tributes who cry are always the ones that are targeted for being weak, and I don't want to seem weak.

I walk on to the stage. Iovita says, "Belle Taylor," almost like she's announcing me, but doesn't ask me any questions.

I'm almost grateful for that. I can keep a stoic face now, but I don't know if I'd be able to if I had to say anything.

"Now, for the gentlemen." She walks away from me, leaving me in the glare of the lights and the flashing cameras. I blink, suddenly stunned.

Iovita calls, "Buckley Sorge," just as a boy runs into the center, bends over, and throws up.

The entire assembled crowd does a collective shift as I cringe. The boy's still bent over, brownish liquid dribbling out of his mouth, and I close my eyes and try my best to pretend I didn't see it.

Someone says, "Hey, that's Buckley over there," and I watch in muted horror as Peacekeepers swarm around the boy and drag him up to the stage. Up close, he looks younger than me - maybe thirteen or an underdeveloped fourteen. He's still pale and his legs are shaking, like he's having trouble supporting himself.

Iovita seems to share my horror, because her lips are drawn more sternly than before and she doesn't bother to ask Buckley questions, either. Instead, she just steps to the side and says, "The District 8 Tributes of the 68th Hunger Games, everyone," while the cameras start clicking and flashing in the background.

Buckley reaches a hand out to me. I move to take it, but then I see the brownish yellow liquid on his hand and nearly recoil in disgust. Instead, I look forward, try to stand tall, and do my best to not think about my parents and the lunch they prepared that I'll never be able to eat.


	10. District 9

**District Nine**

**POV: Denton Gibson **(Lya200)

Beep. Beep. Beep. "Ugh," I groaned as I shut off the alarm clock. My eyes wavered over to the clean white shirt and khaki pants sitting neatly on the chair of my desk. A pair of shoes sat underneath with the white socks. Shoot. Reaping Day.

I made no noise as I got dressed in the closet so Oat and Raine don't see me. They are the seven year old twins, and since we have to share a room and bed, I would very much prefer that they don't watch.

After I was dressed, I pick up a random book from my shelf since I had a little time. Wait. I need to wake up my siblings. "Come on guys. Time to get up."

Raine rolled over, but Oat did nothing to show that he heard me. I lift the covers just enough to reach his foot, then I tickled it. He started kicking around and accidently kicked Raine, jerking her awake too. Perfect. "What was that for?" she slapped a confused Oat.

Oat looked at her. "I didn't do anything," he protested. I whistled innocently. My siblings turned around and glared. "YOU!"

I backed away teasingly. "Oh no. You figured me out. I'm busted. Somebody help me!" They inched towards me as if they thought they could take me on. I pretended to cower in front of them as they neared me. "Before you hurt me…"

They paused. "What?"

"You have to catch me first!" I broke into a run gleefully. They will not catch up. They have to get ready, first.

I sat down at the table with my book to read while I wait for the rest of my family to get here. It was an old book called Charlotte's Web. I think it came out long before the Dark Days, but I was not sure.

It was an old copy, too. The pages were very fragile and might fall apart at the slightest touch. As slowly as I could, I flipped to the first page.

For the next half hour, I allowed myself to be immersed in the tale of the friendship of a pig, a spider, and a human child. Eventually, a freshly cleaned Oat and Raine stomped into the room angrily. I shrugged as they shot me glares.

Soon my parents were awakened and were 'fixing,' to use their words, breakfast. One cannot simply repair food that is nonexistent. Of course, I did not say anything to them.

Mom passed me a piece of stale bread and a glass of room temperature water. Dad passed me a couple of slices from bruised apples. I supposed we lucky to even have this food, but that didn't stop me from grimacing from the foul taste. Unluckily for me, Mom caught me. "Denton, would you rather eat from the garbage like some kids do? If so…"

She did not have to finish. I shoved the ancient food scraps into my mouth at the thought of eating trash or this. Her talk worked like how it should, and she seemed content.

Dad looked at my clothes and smiled. "You look very sharp, Denton. I feel so proud to have you as my son."

Dad always cared about looks. That is why he works long hours. He uses some money to make sure we all have nice clothes. Mom uses her money for food. Unfortunately, she usually buys food that is going bad to save money. Every once in while, though, she will relent and get something edible. For that, I'm grateful.

Right now, though, Mom and Dad are trying to find me a job in the fields. I need to provide them with money since I am growing up. The deal was that I get a job before my next birthday, and I can have a say in what we can eat.

I may or may not be trying so hard. Often if I do get an appointment, I miss it while I am reading. Ashamed, I just tell my parents that they did not like me as well as they thought. I did not want to risk reading privileges.

I took everyone's plates and washed them to get my mind off of the Reaping. I have only twelve slips in the bowl compared to those with twenty, but I couldn't help but think about the fact that someone would be chosen. For all we know, that 'lucky' person could be me.

I took a moment to appreciate the fact that Oat and Raine are too young for the Hunger Games at being only seven. In four years, they will be of reaping age and I cannot volunteer for their third reaping and no matter what for Raine. Oat saw that I had paled and asked, "What is wrong? Are you okay, Denton?"

"Oh I am fine. Don't worry about it, Oat. I am okay."

My brother raised his eyebrow, but before he could inquire, it was time to go to the square. Oat offered his arm to me, but I shook my head. There was no need. He looked at me with the brown eyes that my family shares. "You won't be picked, right?"

"I can't make any promises, little bro." Mom looked at me in annoyance. I was supposed to comfort him, not make him feel worse. I shrugged it off. I did not need to feel ashamed with myself today.

A creepy looking guy from the Capitol was at the check-in. "See you after the Reaping," I mumbled to my family uncertainly. Raine gave me a quick hug, then they go to the roped off area for the families.

"Name." I rolled my eyes at the monotone of his voice. Luckily, he did not see me.

"Denton Gibson." He pressed the needle into my finger and wiped the blood on a sheet. The man then pointed towards the thirteen year old male section.

I stood alone in my section. No one paid me any attention do the fact that I like to not draw attention to myself. "Hey. Denton!" I whipped around and found myself looking into the hazel eyes of my friend, Pasturre. Right behind him was Bud.

"Hi there guys."

Bud waved. "What's up, pal?"

"The sky."

Pasturre rolled his eyes, but he could barely conceal his smile. "Only you will say that on Reaping Day."

Bud laughed. "Well, duh. He always says that. Almost forgot. Happy Hunger Games!"

I found another answer I like to use. "Happy Victory Tour."

People behind me gave me odd looks, but I did not care. See, whenever it is one particular holiday, I have to treat it like something else. Of course, in this case, it was a little ironic since they both had something to do with the dreaded 'games,' which weren't exactly all that fun.

The escort ran up the steps onto the stage. I think her name was Veridie Greenlaw or something like that. I generally don't pay attention for when she introduces herself. "Our female tribute is… GWENITH SITTER!" Wait, she was talking? I seriously need to stop zoning out.

The seventeen year old looked upset as she was led to the stage. Gwenith's face had paled as she tried her best to fight back tears.

After she was on the stage, Veridie strutted over the the glass bowl holding the slips of paper containing the names of all the boys in District 9. Her fingernails snagged a single slip randomly. "Denton Gibson."

All eyes in my section fell on me. I tensed up. That was my name. Bud shifted a little but I shook my head no. No one will die for me. Not today. My eyes watered in fear as the peacekeepers shoved me onto the stage.

I seemed to not be the only one upset. Besides my family and friends, Gwenith seemed even more upset. That might be my imagination, though, or she could just be upset that she was a tribute.

Besides that, there was no emotion on anyone else's faces. It's funny how you know someone for your whole life, yet when the time comes, they look down at you like you are a stranger. That is what I feel. My peers acted like they did not know me. Well, that was plausible. I spent most of my time at school reading and not talking to others. They did not really understand me, so I would just stay under the radar minding my own business.

Apparently, Veridie was talking or something while I was thinking. After we shook hands, a pair of Peacekeepers dragged me over to the Justice Building and shoved me into a room. I felt like a prisoner. Well, technically, I was one since I was being forced into a fight to the death against my will.

I expected it to be my family as my first visitor, but no, it was Pasturre and Bud. They were shaken up by the fact that I was chosen, but at least they tried to be strong. "Hey man," Bud said uncertainly.

"Hi guys. What's up?"

"The ceiling," they said in unison for by benefit.

I let out a giggle at the response that I always used. Hopefully they would continue this once I am gone.

The reality of this hit me. I was a tribute. Pasturre saw the worry in my eyes. "Don't worry, Denton. We will keep your siblings company until you come back." The way how he avoided my eyes, though, confirmed my suspicions that they understood that I was not coming home.

"I will miss you guys." Normally, I don't like to hug, but today was an exception. We shared a group hug, then the peacekeeper marched them out. "Goodbye."

The oak doors opened again, and this time it was my family who came in one by one slowly. Tears soaked all four of their faces. My mom tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob.

It was Dad who broke the uneasy silence. "You are coming back, right?"

I cocked my eyebrows. "Dad. I know that it does not sound all confident, but look at the facts. I am a thirteen year old boy from an outer district going into a fight to the death against fully trained eighteen year olds where there is only one victor. I will be lucky to even make it past the bloodbath."

His mouth made an "o" shape at my seriousness. We all knew what I said was true. They just did not want to admit it. Raine stares at me. "Can you at least try? I want my brother."

Oat gawked at her. "What am I, a neighbor?"

My sister ignored him. "Just please come back. Okay?"

I knew that there was no winning this argument. "I promise."

The peacekeeper opened the door. I gave my family each a quick hug, and once they had left the room, I uncrossed my fingers. There was no point in lying anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Gwenith Sitter<em> (<em>**Evan-Gray)

It was a crisp summer morning. I woke up early so I could go to work with my father. As I'm brushing my hair, my father knocks on my door. "Come in," I almost whisper. "You ready, Ginger?" My father asks. My real name is Gwenith, but because of my fiery red hair he calls my Ginger. "Almost," I say. I grab my thick hair and force into a ponytail. "Ready," I smile. My father takes my hand and leads me out. I see my mother sleeping with my younger brother, Harvey, in her arms. When we arrive in the crops, my father looks at me and says, "See over there?" He asks, pointing across the field. "Uh huh," I nod. "Well, if you squint and tilt your head, you can almost see the sun rising," He says. Even though it's not too impressive, I squint my eyes and tilt my head anyways. I see the UV rays of the sun rising into the sky. "Wow," I nearly whisper. My dad laughs, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. After about an hour of just sitting in a near by shed, I hear a gun shot. I immediately jump up and shout, "Dad!" I run as fast as I can, just trying to find my father. I hear another gun shot. I start crying and crying until someone grabs me. I scream at the top of my lungs. "Shhh…it's okay," The voice purrs. "Help me! Where's my father?!" I scream. "Wait! I can't leave! I haven't found my dad!" I shout at Farro, my dads' close friend. He stops in his tracks. "Gwenith, y-your father's…dead," He expresses sadly. "No…" I say under my breath. My legs feel like jelly and I fall to the ground. I beat down on the fresh crops and sob until everything goes blurry. I wake up, tears fogging my vision. It was just a dream. I hear my mother in the kitchen. "Mom?" I whisper. "Yes?" She asks, chopping carrots. "Oh…uh…" I trail off. My mother stops chopping carrots and stares at me. "What's the matter with you?" She asks concerned. "Oh, nothing. Just that dream…" I look down at my hands. "Oh, Gwenith," She says and embraces me. "No. It's fine. Besides, you've got other things to worry about," Today is the reaping and my younger brother, Harvey, is thirteen and it's his second reaping. "Right," My mother pales. Harvey comes up behind me and hugs me from behind. "Hey," I say. Harvey smiles, his dimples caving in. I grab his chin. It scares me how much he resembles my father. Nice build, deep brown hair, piercing blue eyes, dimpled cheeks. He was just downright handsome. "Go get ready," I command. "You too," He replies.

"Welcome! The reaping of the Hunger Games!" District nine's escort exclaims.  
>"Ladies first!' She shouts. She grabs a paper slip. "Ahem, Gwenith Sitter!" I hear boom across the square. "Now the boys," She grabs a slip. "Denton Gibson," I almst cry out,. He is the same age as Harvey.<p> 


	11. District 10

**District Ten**

**POV: Caspian Abaco** (President Snowflake)

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when I climb stealthily out of bed and hurry to get dressed. This is much earlier than I usually wake up, and besides, it's a holiday, the one time when we're all supposed to get off work. But the ranching business never ends, as my parents say, and they complain every year that they never get to rest like everyone else on reaping day. This year, though, this year they will. I'm going to take care of all the chores this morning, and I'll do it so sneakily and quietly, they'll be able to sleep right through the morning.

_Bam!_

"Crap! Ow, _ow_—"

I grit my teeth to keep further expletives from surfacing, contenting myself with a low groan as I rub my aching, now-stubbed toe. Ow, jeez, I forgot my clothing trunk was there. Stupid furniture always in the way.

Cautiously stepping _around _my trunk, I manage to feel my way to my door—only after walking face-first into the wall. _Ow and ow again._

One hand rubbing my tender nose and the other feeling along the wall, I finally find the door and cautiously ease it open before stepping out into the hall. My parents' room is right next to mine, but no sounds come from within to indicate they're stirring, even with the repetitive banging and swearing coming from yours truly. I know they're deep sleepers, but everyone has a limit. Maybe I should give this up as a bad job now and return to my bedroom while I still have my pride.

_No! Get a grip, Caspian, you are _going _to do this. Today's the day you show them you can handle ranching. Today's the day you stop being worthless._

I've always hated hope. After all, if you don't have it, you can never be hurt, but as soon as one iota of optimism wriggles its way into your heart, you can be burned, crushed, tortured and ruined. That's why I make a rule to reject all hope from my soul before it infects me with its cheerful idealism.

Yet for some reason, I can't pull off the same trick today. Seventeen years I've lived, seventeen years of screwing up everything and being ignored my parents and insulted by the rest of the district. Not anymore. I don't know why I've settled on today, but whatever the case, it's going to be the day I finally become more than everyone's least favourite jinx.

With this resolve in mind, I march firmly in the direction of our front door, only banging into three more pieces of furniture as I go. Hey, I think that may be a new, lowest record. Maybe today really is the day of miracles.

I snort to myself—yeah, right. Miracles, luck, none of that exists. It's only hard work and dedication that gets you anywhere in life, none of that mumbo-jumbo crap. Menial labour is what's going to build me a new reputation and nothing else, so I'd better start now.

Pushing the front door open, I step out onto the stoop and take a deep breath of fresh air. Our escort always complains about the stench that hangs about our district, but none of the locals notice it. In fact, I like the scent that carries on the wind; it smells fresh and crisp like newly tilled soil, and warm like the fur of newborn animals. It smells like home, plain and simple. I don't have to be accepted in District 10 to like it.

All right, first thing's first, I should let the animals into their outdoor pen do graze. My family's been in the goat-keeping business for generations, and while we've accumulated a few chickens as well just for variety, the goats are still our main source of income. My parents taught me everything there was to know about taking care of the animals when I was young, but after a couple screw-ups (or a few. Or a lot), they decided I just couldn't handle ranching. Which meant, seeing as they have no other kids, when they die, the Abaco ranching business dies with them.

But they shouldn't give up on me, not yet. I mean, I can still accomplish things! Look at me, herding the goats out to graze! Have I lost one? Have I broken the fence? Have I even tripped? No!

Seriously, no. I have to take a moment after I herd the last kid into the fenced-off area to let that sink in. Did this really just happen? I got all the goats out of the barn and into their pen, no mistakes made. Yes, I _knew_ today would be better!

Should've knocked on wood, idiot. Not five minutes later do things start to go wrong.

First thing's first, I go to check on our other animals—namely, the brood of chickens resting in our coop. I gather the few eggs that have been laid, relishing the thought of omelets for breakfast, or maybe dinner later tonight, and leave them in a basket by the door. Time to feed the chickens.

My parents keep the feed in a large sack on a shelf above where the chickens roost. Unfortunately I'm quite a bit shorter than my towering, brawny parents, and I have to stretch on the tips of my toes to feel around for the bag on the shelf. Nothing, nothing, argh, that's an exposed nail, nothing, nothing . . . ah, yes, there's the canvas.

Without thinking, I tug the sack eagerly down towards me. Big mistake. The material catches on the nail sticking out of the shelf and the delicate bag tears instantly. Feed showers down on me from above, completely coating me in a dusty layer of rye, corn and whatever else was in the sack.

_Rye . . . crap._ I don't know what it is, but there's something about it that makes the chickens go _insane_. It's like candy to them. _Okay, Cas, no . . . sudden . . . moves._

Too late, of course. The first chicken pecks experimentally at my feet and lets out a squawk when she finds the feed; to me, it sounds like a battle cry, calling in reinforcements to take me down.

And that's basically what it is. Almost immediately, the rest of the chickens have surrounded me, pecking at my feet and nipping at the grains in the folds of my pants. One flaps her wings indignantly, trying to climb my leg to reach the rye settled on my shoulders and head. I grit my teeth as her claws tear through my pants and into my skin, quickly batting her away, but now the rest have picked up on the idea and are all trying it too.

"Shoo!" I shout, flapping my arms, but they continue to squawk at me, flailing their useless wings in an attempt to reach my head. "Shoo, shoo!"

They won't listen. I stumble away from the brood, trying to get to the coop door, but it's not easy; the chickens are all around me, and if I accidentally stepped on one, Mom and Dad would definitely flip. So instead I try to edge around them, but easier said than done; they're _everywhere._

Still, I nearly make it to the door. _Nearly. _I can almost reach the doorknob when one of the chickens lets out a particularly loud _SQUAWK!_ and digs her talons into my leg.

"Ah!" It's not hugely painful, but it's enough to break the skin and startle me. I trip over my feet and tumble to the ground by the door, fortunately not landing on any of the chickens as I fall. Unfortunately, my face goes right into the basket of eggs I'd collected earlier.

_Crack._

"No," I groan into the mess of broken eggs as the yolks and whites ooze over my skin; meanwhile, the chickens, victorious in their defeat of their foe, are stepping all over my back, pecking at any loose pieces of grain still hanging in my shirt. "No . . ."

"Oi, whoever's in the coop, come out with your hands up! Or you won't be the first egg-snatchin' thief I've brained with a pitchfork."

_Dad, no! _As if this couldn't get any worse. With a start, I leap to my feet, alarming the chickens on my back; they fall to the ground, squawking in annoyance, though they're quickly pacified when they return to the pile of feed still raining down from the torn bag draped over the shelf. My egg basket is a mess of goop and broken shells, as is my face. Have to hide the evidence—if my parents realise I squashed four perfectly good eggs . . .

"I'm warnin' you now, thief, come out now or we're headin' in!"

My mom's out there too? Crap, crap, crap! Kicking the basket behind the nearest nest, I run my hands over my face, trying to get rid of the eggy mess smeared across my cheeks. Is it all gone? Is it even passable?

"All right, thief—"

"Wait, wait, it's me!" I call, twisting the doorknob and nearly falling out of the coop. I manage to catch myself just in time and quickly slam the door shut behind me, hoping no one had a chance to glance inside and see the mess I've made. "Just me, sorry!"

I glance up at the tall, imposing figured standing before me. Sure enough, both my parents are here in their typical straw hats and overalls, each clutching a farming tool I wouldn't normally find intimidating, except in their hands. My dad wasn't lying earlier; I've seen him beat a view thieves with nothing but a pitchfork and a milking stool.

Both their menacing scowls fade as soon as they see me, however, and for a second their faces flash with something not unlike confusion. Seventeen years and I swear sometimes they still forget they have a son. Or maybe it's just something they _want_ to forget.

"Caspian," Dad says finally, his eyes raking over my torn pants, my dusty shirt and the large string of egg white dripping down a strand of my black hair. "What are you doing?"

"Chores," I answer, trying to subtly wipe the egg away. "So you and Mom didn't have to get up and do them. You got to sleep in on reaping day, yay!"

My cheer peters out quickly as Mom's eyes go to the coop behind me. "Why do the chickens sound like they're in a Games bloodbath?"

I wince at the continued squawking. They're definitely not supposed to have access to that much food; it's going to make them nuts and fat. "Oh, they're just really happy. I took care of them well."

"Mm," Dad grunts. Now they're both looking past me, at the coop. I can't say I'm not used to it; sometimes I almost swear I turn invisible on them. "Any eggs today?"

"Nope, none at all!" A drop of yellow yolk hangs on the tip of my hair; I bat it away quickly. "Too bad, but hey, I took care of everything for you, right?"

"So you brought the goats out and back in?"

"Well, I brought them out, but—" I stop short. Behind my parents, I can see the outdoor pen—horrifyingly empty. _Oh crap, where are the goats?_

"And brought them in too!" I quickly finish. "So don't worry about checking on them or anything. Just, you know, have a nice breakfast! I could make something."

"It's close to the reapings," Mom says, glancing at the rising sun—oh man, has time really passed so quickly? "We've got to head down to the square."

"Right, well, don't let me stop you! I'm, uh, just going to hang around here for a little longer. Change into nicer clothes, that kind of thing. Go on without me!"

They're already shrugging and walking away. Honestly, if they hadn't thought I was a thief in the coop, they probably would have left without even checking to see where I was. After all, who wants to spend time thinking about their biggest mistakes? And that's certainly what I am to my parents.

I bite my lip, watching Mom and Dad take off down the dirt road with increasingly blurring vision. _Oh, come on, Cas, suck it up! Really you're going to cry? What were you expecting, for things to actually go right? For them to clap you on the back and tell you "good job"? Don't be a moron._

The curse of hope strikes again. I don't know how I could have fooled myself into believing things might actually go right today, but I did, and of course, now I'm hurt because of it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I let myself be so dumb?

I shove my hands in what's left of my pants' pockets, taking a step towards the dirt road as well—while we're pretty close to the square, 10 has a large population, and signing in for the reapings always takes ages. But then I remember the goats. _Crap._

Spinning on my heel, I take off in the other direction, racing towards the outdoor pen. From this distance, I can see the gate flung wide open—_forgot to latch it properly, idiot._ They must have run out while I was dealing with the chickens.

Of course, this isn't my first time screwing up with the goats, and I know where they usually flock to if they're allowed out. I race around the barn to the verdant meadow behind it, and thank goodness, at least something is going right. All the goats are there, bleating gleefully as they munch on the foreign grass.

The sun is rising quick, an ever-present reminder of my limited time, but I've got to get the goats back in the barn first. If they got lost, I don't know what my parents would do.

Actually, I do. They'd stare at me with those same, constant expressions of disappointment before slowly walking away. No shouting, no lectures, not even a beating. I'm not worth the effort.

"Come on, you stupid goats!" I shout, grabbing a nearby stick and waving it wildly over my head. "Over here, this way, come on! Don't you morons know you don't belong here? Nobody wants you here, nobody wants you anywhere!"

Okay, maybe my anger is misguided and not, in fact, aimed at the goats. But whatever, eventually I do enough shouting and running around to herd them away from the meadow and back towards the barn. I'm about to lock them inside—_triple_-checking the door this time—when a nagging thought itches in the back of my head. Something's not quite right.

My heart sinks as I realise what it is. Just to be sure, I do a headcount. Yep, missing a goat, and I know which one too. It's the only black one in the herd, just a kid, but a prized possession of my parents. They'd notice immediately if it was gone.

I slam the barn doors on the other goats, throw the lock, and turn back to the area in front of me. The kid wasn't in the meadow, I would have seen. Oh man, I've really lost it, haven't I? Just when I thought I couldn't fail any harder—

Wait—there, by the dirt road! Munching on grass so casually, I swear it knows what it's doing and is trying to tease me.

"Here, little goat," I say, not able to remember for the life of me what my parents name him. "Come back to the barn now, come on." I step slowly towards him, one foot in front of the other, no sudden moves—this one is notoriously skittish. "This way, this way."

I'm a few feet from him when he takes off. The flash of movement startles me; I leap for him, but off-balance and too slow. He races away down the road while I faceplant into the dirt, which is still nice and wet from last morning's rain, so yeah, not dirt, _mud. _All over my clothes. And I thought I couldn't get any filthier.

"Argh, get back here, damn it!" I scramble to my feet, slip again, and finally regain my footing, now covered in a healthy coating of mud. With a furious groan, I rub the mud away from my eyes just in time to see the goat disappear over the hill, following the dirt road straight into town. It's like it's trying to get me in trouble.

I take off after the goat, my heart pounding in my ears as I watch the sun continue to climb in the sky. Oh man, the reaping ceremony has probably already started. But I can't go until I get this damn _goat_!

I race over the hill and quickly the rolling fields of farmland melts into the more clustered buildings of 10's main town. Of course the goat doesn't seem to mind the lack of greenery; I can see it prancing along up ahead, bleating joyfully as it rounds a bend. At least no one's around to see this.

Fortunately, the kid doesn't know town quite like I do; the alley it's gone down is a dead end. I practically slide into the wall as I skid to a stop in front of it, but it doesn't matter—he's cornered.

"That's right, you moron," I say, stooping down and scooping the bleating kid up in my arms. "Outsmarted. Take that. Now," I continue, stumbling out of the alley. "Let's take you . . ."

I peter out as a new sound reaches my ears. With the pounding of my heart finally quietening, I can hear a voice, far but incredibly loud, just barely reach my ears.

"And your girl tribute is . . ." comes the tinny voice. "Raika Ivanovi!"

Oh no—that's the escort over the square's loudspeaker system, isn't it? And if she's reaping the girls already . . . shoot, I have to be there!

Forgetting I've still got a goat in my arms, I race off in the direction of the square. Fortunately I'm so late there's no line to sign in; unfortunately, the Peacekeepers have already cleaned away the equipment they use to test your blood. "Wait!" I cry as I come barrelling around the corner. One of the Peacekeepers looks up from packing away the last machine. "Wait, I need to sign in!"

"You're incredibly late, kid," she says, rolling her eyes as I come to a breathless stop at her table. "And why the hell are you holding a goat?"

"Please, I just need to get in there," I say, gesturing to the square; I can see the escort already rifling around for a boy's name—thank goodness she likes to take her time to be "dramatic". "Look, I'm Caspian Abaco, seventeen, can you just put a check by my name or whatever? Thanks!"

"But your goat—"

I don't hear the rest, too busy trying to slip into the crowd beyond the sign in tables. The seventeens are nearly at the front of the square, of course, so I wind up disturbing a lot of kids as I try to push through the crowd. Once they realise who I am, though, they step back all by themselves, whispering insults and laughing openly. Everyone wants to make fun of the district jinx, but do so from a distance—bad luck might be contagious.

Also, they might be snickering at the fact that I'm still holding a baby goat in my arms, but what was I supposed to do? I didn't have time to drop him off back at home, and I couldn't leave my parents' prized kid with some random Peacekeeper.

"Ladies and gentleman, your male tribute is . . ." The escort grabs a slip just as I manage to make it to the edge of the seventeens section. At least I made it; things are slightly looking up. "Caspian Abaco!"

I freeze. All eyes turn as the kids surrounding me step even further back. In my arms, the black goat bleats contentedly.

"Caspian Abaco, I presume?" the escort says, looking down at me from the stage. She wrinkles her nose at the sight. "Well, I suppose they can't all be winners. Come on up."

I feel as if I'm in a daze, unable to control my body as I march robotically towards the stage. People are whispering around me, but I can't hear their words, only the sound of my pounding heart once more, and my deafening, terrified thoughts. _Me! Me! She's picked me to die!_

I knew I was cursed; from the moment I was born, bad luck has followed me everywhere. But I never thought . . . I never thought it'd be _this_ bad. I've never known anyone who's gone into the Games; they always felt so distant, less of a threat and more of a gruesome surprise if you turn on the TV and happen to be on the wrong channel. Never did I think I'd have anything to do with them. Never did I think I'd be _in _them, preparing to d-d-d- . . . d-die.

Unconsciously, my grip tightens around the goat as I climb the steps to the stage. I bury my face in his soft fur, trying to inhale as much of the warm, fresh smell of 10. _Stay calm. Stay calm._

"Oh, look, he's brought a friend. Or is it dinner? Whatever the case, it certainly can't be your token." The escort claps her hands. "Well, that's that! District 10, your tributes, Raika Ivanovi and Caspian Abaco!"

* * *

><p>"Please, you can't take him," I manage to stammer as a Peacekeeper leads me to the goodbye room in the Justice Building. He frowns, his hand still on the goat's neck. "My parents will come say goodbye, I can give him back to them then. Let me keep him 'til then, please."<p>

The man rolls his eyes, but still, he seems to be one of the rare sympathetic Peacekeepers. "Don't let him chew anything," he barks, ushering me into the room.

I stand on the threshold, unable to move even after the Peacekeeper slams the door shut. My legs feel weak, and a part of me wants to collapse on that couch over there, but I can't take a single step into the room. Because this is wrong—because I shouldn't be here. B-But I am.

_Should you really be surprised? _a cynical little voice in the back of my head pipes up. _Honestly, with your luck, it's shocking you weren't reaped sooner._

That thought, and all my other fears and doubts, makes me want to collapse on the spot, but before I can, the door behind me opens once more.

The Peacekeeper frowns as I turn to face him. "There's some people out here, say you have their goat."

_My parents. Thank goodness. _Seventeen years of being ignored, of being nothing but the disappointment, I can forget it all if they come in here and hug me, tell me everything's going to be all right. Maybe it's sad that it took my death sentence to get them showing affection, but still, I couldn't be happier. They actually _came_.

"Yeah, that's my mom and dad," I say quickly. "Are they coming in?"

"Uh . . ." The Peacekeeper hesitates, and for a moment, I see a very un-Peacekeeper-like emotion flash across his face. Pity. "I don't think so, kid. They just, ah, well, they want their goat."

He holds out his hands and gently pries the kid from my grasp. I make no move to stop him; I don't think I'm physically capable. My body and brain seem to have shut down entirely. Only one thought plays over and over in my head. _They don't want me. Not even now._

The Peacekeeper pauses, whispers a quiet, "Sorry, kid", and shuts the door behind him. I find myself powerless to do anything but slowly sink to the floor, now without even the soft fur of the goat to hug against my chest. Once more, I'm alone, just like I have been all my life.

No one else comes to knock on my door, not in the entire visiting hour. Why would they? I'm the district jinx, Panem's biggest screw-up. They're probably all glad it was me chosen and not an actually worthy member of society. Turns out the only thing I can do to please people is go die.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Raika Ivanovi<strong> (Bahrtok)

"Babushka," I say to my grandmother as she rocks in her rocking chair on the porch. "I have a good feeling about today."

"You shouldn't," she warns, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "I had a dream last night. You were Reaped."

"Wow. I tell you what, wow!" I say in surprise.

"Don't be a dummy, my Raika," Babushka tells me, tsk-tsking as she shakes her head. "Go tend to the sheep, and then go to your Reapings. Today is a very big day for you."

"Every day is a big day," I remind her happily, jumping from the porch, doing a backflip, and landing squarely on the dirt path in front of the house. I practice my cartwheels as I head out to the backyard, where the sheep are grazing. I count them all before racing off to the town center. I walk on my hands to the town center, watching everyone else from upside down.

"What a great day to play a Game," I say to the girl next to me as I step into my age group.

"The Game is to kill each other," she says in annoyance.

"And the sun is shining so nicely that we'll be really warm while we're doing that." I keep a wide grin on my face as the escort reaches into the female Reaping bowl.

Just like Babushka said, my name is called. I skip to the stage and trip on the second step, slamming my knee into the wooden floor.

"Ow. I tell you what, ow!" I say, rubbing my knee. As I stand up, they call a boy named Caspian to the stage. I wave to him excitedly as he makes his way toward me.

"Isn't this great?" I ask him. He stares at me in confusion. "They could've picked anyone in the entire District, and they picked us. We're the luckiest people in Panem!"


	12. District 11

**District 11**

**POV: Koring **(CamillaAtticus)

I glanced over at the window. Why were there so many people outside? Oh yeah, it's reaping day. I got up, and headed outside of my room. I saw my mother outside. She was cooking what little food we had for breakfast. She placed my plate in front of me, and I smiled at her. It was dandelion salad, one of my favorite meals. My little brother, and sister began to gorge themselves with their food. It caused me to chuckle, seeing their stuffed cheeks.

"Koring, I have a surprise for you" my mother announced. I looked at her, and raised my eyebrows. She came out with a new pair of clothes. I smiled, and walked over to her. I really needed some because my other 3 pairs of jeans, and shirts are worn thin.

"You better get ready, I don't want you to get in any trouble with the peacekeepers." My mother told me. She was right, because the peacekeepers are very brutal here. I walked into my room, and got changed. I washed my face up, and kissed my mother goodbye. I gave my brother, and sister a hug too.

"I will see you guys in a while." I said.

"Be good for mom you two" I told Sarina and Kane. They giggled, and waved goodbye to me. I saw my friend Dean while I walked out of the house.

"Dean wait up" I called. He turned around and waited for me.

"Hey man, what's up?" He asked.

"Nothing'" I replied.

"How much tesserae do you have this year?" He asked. I bit my lip. I do have a lot, because my family is poor. My father was killed at a firing squad, for back talking to a peacekeeper.

"Thirty" I replied. He shrugged, and kept walking.

"How much do you have?" I asked. He looked at me and grinned.

"Fifty" he replied. I looked down at my feet. Damn, he has fifty slips. When he turns 18, it's going to really suck for him. We finally approached the signing in table, and we went into the boy's line. They grabbed our finger and pricked it, and we were directed over to our designated sections. District Eleven is the 3rd most populated district, holding 100,000 people. District One is the 2nd most populated, and then District Six it the most populated. I saw our escort Gorgeous walk onto the stage. I hate her name, it's so ridiculous. I sighed as she walked up onto the stage. She did her thing with the video, and reaped the girls. I sighed as she went to the boys bowl. I held my breath and crossed my finges.

"Koring Briony!" she exclaimed. Everyone turned to me. I took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.

"Shit!" I thought.

"I'm as good as dead now." I rolled my eyes, and began to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Tilia <strong>(Sonamyloversega)

It was getting harder and harder to escape. I'm getting taller, clumsier. I only managed to get away with three prices of bread. Pathetic.

When I got home, I plastered a smile on my face. Caleb ran up to me. "I am hungry hear me roar!" He joked. "Whadja get, Tilia? Anything good?" I handed him a piece of bread. He shrugged and stuffed it into his mouth. "Where's Lilly?" I asked.

Caleb shrugged. "Doing her weirdo voodoo stuff."

I sighed and walked into the next room. Lilly was on the floor, cross-legged, her fingers in ring shapes and her eyes closed.

"Lil, got you some dinner. Reaping day tomorrow, I'm going into town to see what I can buy. Eat and get ready."

Lilly opened her eyes and frowned a bit. "I can't be reaped yet."

"Yes...But I can." I pointed out. We all ventured into town, Lilly staying by my side and Caleb running ahead, oblivious to what day it almost was. Caleb was an enthusiastic eleven year old- I envied his optimism.

I only had enough money to buy a ribbon for Lilly's hair and another one to hold up Caleb's pants- he had to wear our father's, now that he'd undergone a crazy growth spurt.

Lilly scoffed at the red ribbon I handed her. "Euch."

The evening passed without event, except for the nervousness churning in my stomach.

...

Reaping day had arrived. We got ready in a hurry, Caleb jumping up and down as I wound his ribbon through the belt loops of his pants.

"Caleb Eric Hacke, stop it!" I laugh a bit. He slowed to a happy bounce of the feet. I proceeded to lace the other ribbon into Lilly's long brown hair, fastening it into a ponytail.

"There," I said. "Pretty."

"Not on your life." She responded. District eleven's square was too small to fit us all- I told Caleb and Lilly to watch on the big screen after we all were checked in. I walked into the area for fifteen's.

"Hey, Tilly." My friend Jacob greeted me. "Hi," I replied. My heart sped up, and I told it, 'Shut up, you're going to kill me.'

Jacob noticed my uneasiness. "Tilly...You're going to be fine."

"Easy for you to say, you're a merchant's kid."

"No," Jacob shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you-"

Just then the Mayor stepped up to the microphone and began speaking. To me, it sounded like: BLAH bla DEATH bla bla de bla CAPITOL bla bla I EAT COCKROACHES bla bla.

Finally the escort stepped up, said a few words, and walked up to the girl's glass reaping ball. She fished around for a bit, and as we all waited I snuck a glance behind me. Caleb and Lilly had squeezed into the crowd. Caleb saw me and tapped Lilly's shoulder. They both waved.

I waved back.

The escort returned to the podium. I crossed my fingers and all ten toes.

"The lovely female tribute for the 68'th Hunger Games goes by the name of..."

Jacob grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. My heart grinded against my ribs. Sweat beaded my forehead. Get on with it, I wanted to scream. The escort looked like she was having trouble pronouncing the name. 'It can't be me, then. My name is not hard to pronounce...right?'

"The female tribute is...Tilia Hacke."

I froze completely. My breath stopped, I'm even pretty sure my heart skipped a beat. Jacob nudged me slightly, his expression beyond pained. "Tilly...Go."

Then things started to work again. I registered what had happened, comprehended it. I stepped out of my row and walked toward the stage. I felt the whole population of district Eleven's eyes following me.

I mounted the steps, took my place, and prayed I didn't pass out.

Time for the boy tribute.

"And the male tribute is..."


	13. District 12

**District 12**

**POV: Brian **(oddtom)

From the top of the hill, I can see it; the biggest source of misery for nearly every resident of District 12. Beyond the fence, stretching out along the rolling green hills for as far as I could see, is the seam. Not the rows of rotting wooden structures that I, along with so many people of District 12, call home, but the actual seam of coal for which they are named. Legend has it that the seam ran south all the way to District 11.  
>It is days like these that I wonder how long I would last out there. I have often imagined running down along the seam, finding some old, abandoned cabin in the woods, and settling down out where the Capitol could never touch me. After all, they can't reap people from outside the districts. The thought forcibly yanks me back to reality and I once again found myself atop the hill staring off into the distance. I let out a long sigh, forcing myself to face the fact that they are just thoughts, and start back down the hill. The detour had cost me twenty minutes, and I had to hurry down to the stream to wash my clothes.<p>

On any other day, nobody made much of a fuss about what I wore, but today was reaping day. Though nobody can really afford the nice clothes, it is understood that you showed up looking the best you could. Once, when I was twelve, I showed up in my normal school clothes, and they had fined us a week's worth of pay for wearing such ratty clothes to the reaping. It had taken them months to recover from it, and I became determined not to subject them to that again.

After washing my clothes off in the stream, I take a deep breath and dunk my head in. I am freezing by the time I am done scrubbing, and I still have coal grime wedged into the creases of my face, but it is the best I can do. I hope it is enough as I run back to my dilapidated house in the seam.  
>Even before the house is in sight, I can hear my mother's wretching hacking cough. Years in the mines have taken their toll on her lungs, and she spends most of her time in bed trying to keep from coughing her lungs out. For the most part, it means that it is up to me to take care of her and my little sister.<p>

She greets me with a hug as I walk in the door, and I return the embrace. I can feel her trembling, and I don't blame her. I still remember my first year in the reaping. I hand her the blue dress that I washed in the stream and smile down at her. "It's going to be alright, Violet", I asure her. "We just stand around in a crowd for an hour or two, then they let you go home. Before you know it, we'll all be back home and safe."  
>We break away from each other and she looks up at me with teary eyes. "I bought you a new dress. It's violet, the color you're named after." I hand her the violet dress, and she retreats to her room to get ready.<p>

Though I squeezed all the water out of them earlier, the clothes are still cold and slightly damp as I put them on. Violet's dress must be too, because she is actively shivering when she finally comes out of her room wearing the dress.

"You look lovely, Violet", the rasping voice of our mother declares. She rolls her wheelchair over to Violet and strokes her hair. "Soon, you'll be needing a stick to keep the boys off you."

Violet blushes, for the moment forgetting about reaping day, and smiles. I smile as well and take hold of mother's wheelchair. I push her out into the street, and the three of us head for the square. The crowd grows much thicker the closer we get to the town center. It seems that the entire population of District 12 is gathered here, and it occurs to me that it's probably true.

I leave mother with the other parents and take Violet down to sign in.

"Ok, we've got to split up now." I look down at Violet and see that her face has turned a lshade of green. "Do you know where to go?"

Violet looks up at me grimly and nods. I lean down and kiss her cheek, once again reassuring her. "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon. I have a bit left over from selling those apples at the hob. We can stop by the bakery afterward and pick up some of those cookies you really like if you want. What do you think?"  
>She nods back solemnly, though I can tell that she is distracted. For a second, I think that she's going to hurl right then and there, but she collects herself and heads off for the other twelve year olds.<p>

There are a lot of superstitions about the reaping and things that jinx you, but I don't really pay attention to it. I figure I'll get called if I get called, and there's not really a thing I can do about it. Everyone has their own way of passing the time, and I look over for Violet. I spot her over with the other twelve year olds talking to Claria, a girl I've seen her playing with after school. I'm happy that she has found someone to help calm her down; I don't know if they would fine us if she did eventually vomit on her dress.

I am broken by the thought by our escort as he steps to the stage and announces the reaping. He goes through the speech about a world of wondrous technologies that was destroyed by our frivolous ancestors, though nobody is really paying attention. I cannot avert my gaze from Violet. I know there's nothing I can do but hope as our escort goes over to the bowl filled with names to draw the first tribute for District 12.

He swished around the names in the bowl and comes out with a single note. Reading the name off the slip of paper, his voice bellows out over the crowd. "Claria Fenchurch!"

Though my sister's name wasn't chosen, I still feel a blow as the girl who had been comforting Violet is separated from the crowd and is marched to the stage. Violet snaps her head over to my side of the crowd and desperately scans the faces of the other 17-year-olds until she finds my face. I nod at her reassuringly, though we both know that it's not over.

Claria is holding herself together surprisingly well for a 12-year-old as she is marched to the stage. The event is akin to a funeral procession as the peacekeepers march her to the stage. Though she is welcomed generously by our escort, we all know that she is as good as dead.

By the time Claria has taken her place, everyone is sufficiently nervous and each has his own way of dealing with it. To my left and to my right, the other boys my age are all distracting themselves somehow. I recognize a lot of them from my class. To my left, Brian has his eyes closed and both his fingers crossed. Next to him, I see Kenny rubbing his hands together, the palms slick with sweat. I do nothing but focus on breathing as our escort returns to the bowl to call one more of us to our imminent death.

Time seems to stop as he reaches into the bowl and shuffles his hand around. I don't want to watch, but I can't help but stare as he grasps a single note and holds it out for us to see. In this moment, I can see why so many of the other kids believe in those silly superstitions. I can only watch in horror as he slowly opens the note and calls out the male tribute's name.

"Brian Woods!"

Immediately, all the heads in the crowd, including mine, turn toward Brian. The kid standing next to me seems not to notice that his name has been called, even as the peacekeepers grab him and guide him to the stage. I find that I've been holding my breath, and I let it out in a long sigh. We all shuffle nervously as Brian is dragged away, each grateful that his name was not called, but are simultaneously guilty for feeling so.  
>None of us dares to meet Brian's eyes as he looks over the crowd desperately. There is nothing we can do anyway.<p>

As Brian takes his place next to Claria, I close my eyes and silently thank the weavers of fate that my name was spared again this year. I let out a huge sigh of relief as I head over to the 12-year-old section to find Violet. Her face has become considerably more green since Claria was called. I nod at her, trying to reassure that, though we still had to listen to our escort read the treaty of treason, now it really was over.

As the reaping ceremony comes to a close, Brian and Claria are taken backstage we are released. I run over to Violet and immediately pull her into my embrace. She is violently trembling as she sobs into my shoulder. For the next few minutes, we just hold each other and I console her. "It's over. It's all over. You're going to be okay now. It'll all be alright."

When she finally stops sobbing, I pull away from her. "Are you okay?"  
>She seems distant, and I am about to stand up and lead her home when she finally vomits.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Claria Fenchurch<strong> (omgmockingjay)

It's my mother's wailing for water that awakens me this morning. I creep out of bed, carefully stepping over my little brother Irvine who sleeps on a grubby mattress on the floor. Mother has had pneumonia for three months and we can't afford medicine. I don't know much about my father's job, but from the way he acts at home I can only assume that he could work harder and get us more money. I despise that man and the fact that I am related to him. To be honest, I don't think he would care if I were to be reaped in my first reaping today. It's extremely unlikely as my name is only in the bowl twelve times, but in this day and age anything could happen to anyone.

The water pump is about half a mile away from our collapsing wooden house. I pick up a small bucket and a waterskin while on my way out of the dank building. The tendrils of light are slowly unfurling over the hills of Panem; I suspect it is around five thirty in the morning, though we don't have a clock in our house so I wouldn't know. I reach the pump in no time at all, but it takes some effort to get it going. It's a stiff, rusty thing, been there for years.

Upon arrival at my house again, I hear my mother whimpering in pain. I walk in and Vinny is kneeling beside the bed, stroking her hair. I smile at him. "Thanks, Vinny. Is Father awake?" He blinks up at me with huge hazel eyes. "I don't think so, Claria. I'm hungry."  
>I suppress a groan. "Me too, honey, but we don't have any food. I'll see what I can get for us at the bakery, okay?"<p>

He cracks a cute smile. "Okay." I give him the small waterskin to give to Mother and he helps her take small sips from it. I push open the front door and make my way to the bakery, which is owned by the Mellarks. Their youngest son, Peeta, is around my age, I think. Maybe a couple of years younger.  
>I tiptoe inside. I can hear shouts from upstairs, then the unmistakeable sound of a slap, followed by the cry of a child. This sort of thing is familiar to me, so I am not surprised. My father beats me every day.<br>I clear my throat loudly. The sound of thumping footsteps on the stairs resonates through the walls, then the door to the bakery opens. Mrs Mellark looks extremely angry and for a split second I think she is going to hit me too, but she pauses and takes a deep breath. She then plasters the fakest smile I have ever seen onto her red face. "Good morning, what would you like?"  
>The selection is not massive, 12 being the poorest district, but I can only afford a couple of the items. I go for the cheapest option, a tiny loaf of bread barely big enough to feed two people, let alone my whole family. I pay for it, I thank Mrs Mellark and I leave the bakery. It takes all of my self control to not eat the bread on the way home, but I must be selfless and not think of my aching stomach.<br>Just as I reach my front door, I hear a sharp scream. I burst through the door to find Vinny on the floor near Mother's bed, and Father towering over him, his belt dangling from his hand like a noose from a hanging tree. "Stop!" I cry out, standing protectively over my seven-year-old brother. "What are you doing? He's seven!"

The belt slashes me across the forehead, but it's just a bruise. I stare at him in defiance. Soon I can't bear to look at him anymore, so I decide to get ready for the reaping. Among the few clothes I own is a green gingham dress. It's very simple and is a little too small now but it's the nicest item of clothing I own. First I take a bath, doing my best to scrub off the layers of grime that have attached themselves to my skin. I look like most other kids from 12: small, underfed, dark brown hair, olive skin, but it's my eyes that grab people's attention. I'm the only person in District 12 to have green eyes. People used to call me names like "Capitol freak" and "mutt" when I was younger, but they've grown to accept me now. When Father is especially angry he will call me these names because he knows how much it hurts.  
>I slip on the green and white cotton dress. Luckily the buttons are at the front so I don't have to ask someone else to do them. I like being independent. Just as I do the last button up, I hear a knock at the door. "Come in!" I say, and the door creaks open on its rusty hinges to reveal Vinny in the doorway. He looks like he is about to cry. "I got you a present, Claria."<br>"Aww, honey, you shouldn't have! What did you get for me?" He opens his palm to reveal a silky green ribbon, the exact same colour as my dress. I hold back tears. "That's so sweet of you, darling, thank you!" I give him a hug. Then it hits me. This could be the last time I ever receive something so precious from him. I could be sent to my death today and he would never have that satisfaction of making someone he loved happy ever again.

Just then, the claxon sounds signalling the start of the reaping. Oh no. I quickly tie the ribbon in my hair with shaky, fumbling fingers, and grab Vinny's small hand. I doubt either of my parents will come to the reaping; Mother is ill and Father doesn't care what happens. When I reach the square I am sent into a queue to get my finger pricked. It hurts a little, but it's just a scratch. I've dealt with much worse injuries than a small needle in my finger.

There are separate areas for girls and boys, and each gender is split into age groups, beginning with the twelve year olds at the front and ascending in age order to the eighteen year olds at the back. I make my way slowly to the front where I see my friend from school, Violet. She is a similar shade of green to my dress. Even though I feel like I might wet myself in terror, I take hold of her clammy hand and mutter words of reassurance in her ear.

Before long, our absurdly dressed escort comes up on stage. He makes a boring speech about the world before the "war, terrible war" and how it was destroyed. I stifle a yawn.  
>"And now, to pick our tributes!"he barks into the microphone, a little too enthusiastically for this occasion. He shuffles over to the glass bowl in his gold high heels and dips his hand in, as if he is testing the temperature of water. His long nails clasp a piece of paper and he fiddles with it for a moment, trying to open it. His small, piggish eyes scan the piece of paper and he shouts "Claria Fenchurch!"<br>I hold in a gasp. Why me? Thousands of heads turn my way, and for a moment I really do think I will lose control of my bladder. Two peacekeepers grab each of my arms and march me up onto the stage, and I just about hold it together. Crying means weakness and I don't want to look any more weak than I already do. I'm only twelve, after all.

I barely catch the unlucky boy's name; I feel as though my head is being held underwater and I can't escape my death. The boy is guided up towards the stage and I remember his name: Brian Woods. He's fairly quiet and I don't really know him, but I'm sure we'll get to know each other soon enough.  
>"And here we have our District 12 tributes for the 68th Hunger Games!" our escort squawks, and he makes Brian and I shake hands. His hand is sticky with sweat but I don't complain as mine probably is too. We are guided into the mayor's house under the pitying eyes of the people who were not reaped, and we wait to bid our families goodbye. The doors are still slightly open and I can just make out my tiny brother running towards them, tears streaming down his face. "Vinny!" I sob, losing control of my emotions. He flies into my arms, bawling his heart out. I cling to him, never wanting to let go, but I have to and he is prised from my embrace. "I'll win it for you, Vinny! I'll try my best!" I scream as I catch one last glance of the person I love most.<p> 


	14. District 1 Train

**District One Train**

**POV: Aitou Tsanua 18**_ (_Little miss innocent liar) .

The train was amazing, unlike anything I had seen before. I let out a whistle "This place sure is nice" I say absently to myself and I see Scarlet nod, her red hair moving lightly. I jump lightly when I hear the train doors close behind us and I sigh, shaking my head. Damn scaredy cat. We see a dining table and we look at each other, sitting down at the table.

We sit opposite from each other and Scarlett is all grins.

It's not that I find it unnerving it's just….creepy. But I guess that does mean I find it unnerving. I shifted in my seat, coughing lightly "So, Scarlet" I begin, trying to find something to say to her. And people wondered why I didn't have many friends. I didn't know what to say. "We're careers, huh?"

She nods at me, a smile on her face "It's great! I can't wait to go into the games"

I looked at the fork that lay near my right hand and I pick it up, stabbing it into the fruit bowl. I hit a strawberry. Just as I bring it in to eat it, Scarlet reaches over and takes it. I look at my fork then I look back at her. "Really?"

"Was that really needed?" I asked her.

She nods, licking her lips. I reach over, taking a banana and I start to peel it and taking bites as I look around the train. The escort walks in and my eyes go wide at how short her dress is and I nearly choked on the banana, coughing harshly.

I think she must mistake my gawking for something else because she laughs, winking "Oh Aitou, such a charmer"

Um. I looked at my hands, fiddling with the napkin that was given to me. I look up and say thank you, I see their eyes go wide for a second and they look around before the escort rolls her eyes "Don't try getting much of a thank you out of that, they're all mute you know?"

"Oh," I mumbled under my breath. "So, Scarlett I was thinking we could run tactics? You know, get a head start and that?" I asked her, giving her a polite smile. She rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissingly at me.

"You're such a worry wart, why don't you just eat some food. You could probably gain a few pounds before the games. You need to feed the guns" she winks at me, flexing her arms muscles.

I frowned but I sighed. Again. "I guess a little meal wouldn't hurt before" then I look back at her "But then where running strategy, okay?"

Scarlett laughs at me "Of course, of course"

Our meal arrives, mine is some meat dish with lots of fish on the side. Sparkles looks at me, her long purple eyelashes never failing to make me stare and she says the name of some drink I couldn't pronounce to save my own life with or without ice.

"Without" I blurt out and she nods at me.

She pours this sweet smelling pink liquid into my drink as well as Scarlett's. I look at the drink, picking it up and giving it a little swirl, sniffing it. It smelt like flowers. I shrug, how bad could it be? Besides it'd be rude if I didn't drink so might as well.

I drink the whole thing in one gulp. My mouth was filled with this sweetness and as I swallowed, the sweetness left my mouth to be replaced with a burning hot sensation. I coughed a few times and I see my escort, mentor and partner laugh at me.

"You sip it!" the mentor laughs, a massive grin on her face as she wipes away tears. "You should have seen the look on your face, you looked like a dear" the counties on, chuckling under her breath.

My mentor was Topaz La Feur. Winner of the game five years ago. She had bright blonde hair and tough tanned skin. She was wearing a suit, all-black save for the white dress shirt. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun and it seemed to show off her sharp features.

I guess Topaz was one of the lucky victors. No scars that I remember from watching her games and she looked pretty happy. She was really pretty. "Here" she said, picking up her glass that was filled with ice, taking sip of it like it was water. She chuckled again, "See?"

Meanwhile I am still trying to wash the taste of that very, very strong alcohol out of my system. I could never drink. I just couldn't handle my liquor. My dad tried to teach me, my friends, fuck, even Atticus tried to boost up my tolerance but I was just one of those guys when it came down to it. I wiped my watery eyes.

I look back at the rest of my meat, pushing my plate away. If I kept eating I would just make myself sick. I leaned back in my chair, stretching out and then standing up. I stumble a little bit, my head feeling woozy. I can feel a faint buzzing sensation at the back of my skull. It's not bad or good, I just know it's there. I guess it's the alcohol.

I pick up the remote, playing a past game.

It's a few years old, I think. I was never very good at remembering which games played, unless something really memorable had happened but they all kind of bleed together. Pun intended.

Two tributes are in the middle of a very violent, rough fight. It fits everything in not to do in a fist fight. One tributes grabbed the others hair and the tribute with their hair being pulled instantly started clawing at their attacker's hand.

Mistake.

The tribute that is currently winning the fight in the one that grabbed at the others hair. The one pulling the others hair is boy, a rough look in is lone eye and the girl has soft blonde hair. They're from outer distracts. They're both so skinny and under trained. They're on the ground, rolling around, trying to gouge out the others eyes or bite off fingers.

The girl flings herself forward, scratching at his eyes and the boy lets out a shriek of pain. Out of pure instinct, the boy leans in and bites her at the ear. Hard. I can see a good half of her ear be torn off. Well, not completely torn off, it's barely hanging on though. The girl also screamed, pulling away, cradling her ear.

The boy lunges at her, rock in hand bringing it down on her. She decided it's better to defend herself than cradle her ear and brings up her forearms to protect herself against the the boys wrath. To my surprise, she manages to outlast the boy's attacks and she grab him by his hair, bring him underneath her, and she's on him in a flash, squeezing his neck with all her might.

There it is. The million dollar shot that makes a tribute, weather they live or die, memorable.

She had this wild look in her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she starred at her hands like she was in auto pilot as she watched her own body be ripped apart and to watch herself rip apart another. Her hair was a mess and she was filthy and hungry and desperate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scarlet starring at the screen with this look in her eyes, not the look of a desperate killer. But someone who wanted to kill. I felt my skin crawl and stomach lurch. Maybe I was just still sick from the alcohol. But still, I would have to keep an eye out for her.

We're partners, after all.

That didn't mean I could trust her.

I am not scared of death, but I would sure like a say in how I died. Example, I would like to die at 80 in victor's village. Another example, I would not like to die in the games after being tortured. But I guess you get what you get. No one decides, or else we would all be immortal.

Scarlet was 16, she was picked to volunteer at such a young age for a reason. And I had a really good feeling it wasn't because of her charming personality. I glanced at her nails, seeing how sharp they were and our eyes met and I smiled, embraced that I had been starring.

We didn't end up running strategy. I ended up feeling the gravity of the day and I sighed, cracking my neck and walking to my cabin. But I'm stopped my Scarlet.

"Why do you hide it?" she asks me, eyes starring critically at mine.

I shifted under her eyes slightly before meeting her eyes "I have no idea what you mean, now come on let's just go to lie down for a few minutes-"

"I mean, with you and Atticus"

I freeze, turning around. "You saw?" I asked, my throat tightening as my eyes flicked around the passage way.

No one was here. No one could prove anything if they heard us. I mentally cursed myself. I had just confirmed it to her. She nodded "In case you were worried, I won't tell". I raised my eyebrows at her, jaw hanging slightly open.

"Really?"

She nodded, smiling. It's a gentle smile, the way the sunrays catch her hair, and her skin. Scarlet really is pretty. I smile back at her "Thanks, I wouldn't live with myself with something happened to him" I sighed.

I sighed, walking back into the main chart to see Topaz laughing at something the other victor had said to her and then she looked at me, giving her victor breather a sharp look and pointing at the door for them to leave. She sat down in her chair, looking at me as she swirled a glass of the insanely strong alcohol in her glass and sipping in leisurely.

"I want tactics and advice" I blurted out to her and she smirked.

"A-and please don't drink while you mentor me" I mumbled the last part, looking at the ground as my face heated up.

I hear her groan, downing her drink and placing it down on the counter, leaning back in her chair. She point at the arm chair opposite to her as she rests her expensive looking shoes on the table without a care in the world and rolls her eyes at me starring at her actions.

"Young man, the first thing I want you to remember in the games is that you can't trust a book by its cover" she says, frowning annoyed that I was starring and I looked at my hands again.

"Sorry" I mumbled again.

"What?" she asked, her face scrunched up as she leaned in to me.

My eyes went wider as I spoke up again "Sorry"

"Kiddo I'm as deaf as those freaks are mute. Speak up" she said obviously referring to the avox in the room.

"Sorry" I said at the loudest my voice would allow and she rolled her eyes.

"That sorry shit has gotta as well. You think the other careers will take you seriously if you keep that shit up? Well let me tell you, they won't. And another thing-" she kept on talking and I stood there at attention, now looking at her.

Just ignore it, I thought to myself, feeling the pain in my chest return.

Just ignore it, I thought as I listened to her words ever so closely.

Scarlet walks into the cart, eyeing Topaz for a second and back to me. She smiles at me, her mentor in tow "We're gonna be in the capitol in a few minutes" she explains. I look back at Topaz and she smiles again, like nothing had ever happened, pouring herself another drink and downing it again.

"So what did she say to you?" she asks me and I look at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Does it matter?" I snapped at her and then I realized what I had just said. "Shit, sorry" I mumbled to her, scratching the back of my neck "It's just been a little stressful for me today" I coughed.

"I just kind of heard what she was talking about and…" she trails off.

"Nah, it's okay. I'm used to it"

I think about the days where I practically lived at the training centre, running and sleeping any given moment I could get my hands on, all while listening to my trainers drill techniques in my head. I used to hate it but know I kind of missed it. I missed the smell of sweat and blood on the equipment and someone yelling at us to 'clean up after yourselves, you filthy animals'.

"Do you remember Trainer Linx and how he would lose his head if you didn't order the swords properly" I asked her and I see her smile as much as I was smiling.

"I think Atticus had this record of making someone cry every semester?" she says and we both go silent.

I forced a laugh "Yeah, I think he made one of my friends brother cry this semester"

We're silent for a few moments then the escort points at the capitol "Look!"

Our eyes go wide as we look at the city. No this wasn't a city it was so big it looked like it could all of the distracts and still have so many spare buildings. They were so tall and mighty. The train pulls up to the train station and we race to the window, watching all the capitol citizens' wave at us and cheer.

So this is the capitol.


	15. District 2 Train

**District 2 Train **

**POV Pricilla Burton **(CamillaAtticus)

I walked out of the Justice Building. I saw cameramen recording several videos of Tommy and I. I kept my smile going and waved to many of them. Tommy did the same thing as me. I bet we have the best looking District this year, and the toughest. We were lead into the train, and began our journey.

Lochlan directed us to our rooms first. I decided to ignore him and walk around the train. The train was lavish, and was well decorated. I saw Lochlan lead two people on the train. And I knew who they were.

"Now I want to introduce Enobaria to you Pricilla!" Lochlan exclaimed. He also added

"Enobaria also knows me well. I was her escort!" I saw her walk over to me. I sighed in awe of her presence. It is great that I get to take her place next year mentoring.

"Hello Pricilla" she said.

"Hello Enobaria" I said. She walked over to shake my hand.

"I am glad your my mentor. I will take your place as mentor next year." I told her. That comment seemed to upset her.

"Yeah, only if you win" she said. Now she pissed me off.

"Whatever Enobaria. I will most certainly win this year. I will be the best tribute out there." I announced confidently.

"Nice to know. Be out to watch the interview recap today" she said coldly.

"Okay" I said. What a great mentor. She is such an ass! will show her who runs that arena once we get there. I sighed and entered my room. I looked around. This room was pretty plain compared to the rest of the train. I mean, it looks pretty blank to me. I sighed and walked into the bathroom. I was taken aback by the sight of it. The shower was wonderful. It can wash you with perfumed water, and it dries you off in about ten seconds. I decided to go ahead and take one. I choose the rose scented water, and got showered off. It washed my hair for me too. After I was finished in there, I went to get dried off. I was dried off quickly, and got dressed in some comfortable clothes. I walked out of my room, wondering what to do next.

I saw a table full of food, and I saw Tommy their. I grabbed a doughnut, and decided to talk to Tommy.

"Hey Tommy" I said.

"Hey Pricilla" he replied.

"I'm already fed up with that dumbass Enobaria. Once I win, I will take her place and be a better mentor." My comment seemed to annoy him. I grunted at him. He now has gotten me upset, I can mark him down as the second person to upset me.

"WHY IS EVERYONE JELOUS OF ME?" I screamed. I quickly slapped Tommy and left the room. I hope I taught him a lesson. I chucked for a second. I'm glad their jealous of me, they should be.

"Pricilla!" Lochlan exclaimed.

"It is against the rules to fight another tribute!" I laughed at his comment.

"I never fought him, I simply slapped him" I retorted.

"And you will be next if you don't leave" I added.

"You have a horrific attitude Pricilla! You won't ever get far with it!" He shouted at me. Now he has done it. He is the third person to piss me off. He better prepare to get his ass beat. I glared at him and walked up to his face. I pushed him into the floor. He let out a shriek as he fell back and hit his head on the table. I saw Enobaria rush in and shout at me.

"Pricilla what do you think your doing?" She shouted.

"Putting everyone in their place. I now run these games!" I shouted back at her. Maybe I should put her in her place too..

"I'm calling the peacekeepers!" She shouted at me. And sure enough, two peacekeepers walked in, and had to restrain me. They cuffed my hands behind my back, and made me sit on the couch. "Who do they think they are handling? I'm so much better than them." I thought.

I decided to avoid Tommy, because I'm mad at him. I don't want to lose any careers as allies, especially my district partner. To keep myself, and him calm I ha to avoid him. I wanted to watch T.V, because what is the point of sitting in front of a T.V and not watching anything?

"Enobaria turn the damn T.V on!" I screamed. I'm very mad at her. I won't forgive her for a while.

"Fine you little brat" she yelled back. She walked over and turned it on. They were playing a recap of the 58th Hunger Games. That was the year when that stupid Cecelia girl from eight won. She hid the whole time, and cause the careers to turn on each other. I would never allow that to happen to us. I would make sure that anyone who caused problems with us would be dead. I laid back and watched as the girl from two died.

"That will never be me" I said to myself. I will return home and become the best victor ever. I will amaze the people in the capitol with my skills. Suddenly the show cut off. I heard the anthem begin to play. The reaping recap has begun. I paid attention to my possibly future allies from one. Their girl was a short redhead. As she walked up to go on the stage, she did a front flip onto the stage.

"Pathetic" I sad aloud. I mean, who does a flip onto the stage? The Hunger Games aren't a gymnastics competition. The boy from one was less memorable to me. Then came us. We looked stunning. We're obviously the best District. I didn't pay much attention to three. But their tributes look like they will die fast. When I saw District 4, I became very upset. The boy was just a scrawny loser. The girl could be some use to us though, but I doubt it. I saw five, and became envious. The girl there is almost as pretty as me. I know I'm more pretty, but she must die. Nobody can admire her beauty at all. I decided to ignore every other district, but District 12 caught my attention. They had a twelve year old. So I most definitely can kill her. I know I can kill them all. They are no competition compared to me. They seem weak, and have no competition compared to me.

I can't wait until we make it to the arena. I just need to finally be able to kill. The thought of killing excited me. Not because I'm a psychotic freak, it's much more. To me, each death will be a mark of honor for my district. I will be the most respected once I get back home. I noticed a peacekeeper come to unchain me. I smiled at him.

"Thanks" I said. He simply walked away from me, without giving me any respect.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked him. He turned around and looked up at me. Ha, I'm taller than him.

"Yes I do know who you are. You are an arrogant, selfish little girl, who made a mistake about volunteering." He told me. He just sparked up my anger. I glared at him.

"I can restrain you again" he warned.

"LEAVE NOW!" I shouted. He did as he was told. Does he even know how good of a fighter I am? I will show them all. I wish I could bring him, and Enobaria to the games. I would kill them in a heartbeat. I sighed as I walked back to my room. I wish I received the respect I deserve. Back home, everyone would basically bow down to me. But here, the people are so out of line. I guess I will have to force them back into place. I laughed at myself and fell back onto my bed.

"Oh my, what trouble they will be in once I win." I said aloud to myself. I laughed hysterically and soon fell asleep.


	16. District 4 Train Ride

**District Four Train Rides**

**POV: Athan Cole **(nativedoll16)

"Let's go then!" Amethyst exclaimed to the two of us as we approached the vehicle. I was a little taken off guard because she almost pushed us onto the train.

When we arrived inside of the train I was amazed by its appearance. I was used to upscale things, but I still felt shocked. The train had expensive mahogany tables and polished paneled walls. I could smell fresh baked bread, steamed seaweed, and chocolate filled treats.

"There are extravagant bedrooms on the attached car for the two of you." Amethyst said pointing towards the back of the train. "And we'll eat later. First, you'll meet the fabulous Finnick Odair, your mentor. He'll be here in a few minutes."

Amethyst narrowed her eyes at me and Sky. I sat down in one of the seats in the front of the train. The female tribute Sky sat down in the seat next to me, and I looked at her for the first time since we arrived on the train. Amethyst walked away with frown on her face.  
>We both sat in silence, and I continued to look at the door of our mentor's room.<br>I looked over at Sky and I decided to break the silence.

"Hi," I said feeling awkward.

"Hi," Sky replied quietly.

We both remained silent for a moment.

"So your last name is Ciel?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah, why?" Sky questioned.

"Well, in French, we learned that "Ciel means "Sky"… so your name is Sky, Sky?" I asked feeling a little amused.  
>Sky placed small smile on her face. "Yeah, it is. You're not the first person to have asked me that."<p>

"I just wanted to make sure." I said understanding.

"Do you prefer to be called Skylar or Sky?" I asked wanting to make sure.

"Just Sky, everyone calls me Sky." Sky said without hesitation.

"Athan, is your dad Antone Cole? The rich fisherman guy?" Sky asked.  
>I winced at the sound of my father's name. "Yes, Antone Cole is my father. He doesn't really want to let the public know I exist, I'm just a burden on him in his mind. Both of my parents have always viewed me as an irrelevant waste of time. They never celebrated my birthday or holidays with me, they'd just make some pathetic excuse to not spend time with me. Sometimes I feel like a ghost in my own home." I said and then I paused for a moment.<p>

"Now that I am older, he wants to use me. He wants to teach me everything he knows about our Fishing Company, so that I can own it one day." I said not realizing my hands were shaking.  
>Sky gave me a sympathetic glare. "I guess you don't want to do that."<p>

"I don't want any part of it. I don't want to do anything involving my parents." I said in a bitter way.  
>My eyes went wide when Sky leaned forward and hugged me.<p>

"I'm sorry," Sky whispered. "I never had to go through that. I only had one friend, but he was the best friend anyone could ever have." I stared at Sky curiously and she pulled away softly.

"My brother, Connie," Sky said with a small pause. "He was like a father to me, my dad died when I was young and left me this hat, and my mom works 18 hours a day so I almost never see her. She didn't get to see me off, either. Connie… he was everything to me. My best friend. My dad. My chef." I smiled.

"He makes me feel like a little kid, the way he protects me… but I sort of like feeling young. And god, I love him."

"He sounds great," I replied quietly with a small smile forming on my face. "The only person who ever cared about me was my maid Carina. She was unable to have children herself, so I was sort of like the child she never had, but wanted to have. She was the closest thing to a mom for me." My eyes fell while I got lost in thought.

"I think I saw her at the Reaping…" Sky replied.

"I thought she was your mom or something…"

"She's the reason I'm going to fight in these Games." I said determined. Sky smiled slightly.

"Connie.. he was so broken up at the Reaping. I won't let him look like that ever again. I'm going to be strong in these Games for him." Sky said.

I opened my mouth but before I could speak again, the door to a nearby bedroom opened.

Finnick Odair walked out of his bedroom. He wore a white button down shirt similar to mine, along with a pair of black pants and boots. I noticed he had blond hair with a muscular, tall body build. Finnick walked proudly with an intimidating grin on his face.

Finnick sat down in one of the seats facing Sky and me.

He stared at Sky and I like we were diseased creatures.

"It looks like I am going to lose my tributes quickly this year." Finnick stated while raising one of his brows.  
>Sky narrowed her eyes.<p>

I frowned and I was about to speak, but Finnick raised his hand to stop me.

"I going to take a wild guess and say the one with tousled hair is Athan and the little girl over here name is Sky, Sky. Finnick said pointing to me and then Sky.

"My name is Sky. And I am not a little girl, I'm 15 years old." Sky stated with a look of agitation.

Finnick cocked his head to the side. "Sure." He replied in an unamused way.

"Are you going to tell us how to win the games?" I asked wanting to change the subject.

Finnick looked bored. "I cannot tell you how to win the Games, but I can offer some tips." He emphasized.

"First, I need both of you to tell me your strengths."

"I can run and move pretty fast." I said bluntly.

"I know how to identify plants." Sky added.

Finnick almost looked like he wanted to laugh. "Clearly we are working with nothing."

"It's not nothing to me. Based on past Games that I've seen, it seems like a useful skill," Sky said not breaking eye contact with Finnick.

He looked amused. "So, you're going to use your skill to feed them to death?"

"Bloated tributes are slower," Sky answered quickly. "And I'm a fast runner as well, I've always had quick reflexes, and knives are my specialty, if I needed to have one. I've sparred with my brother a few times, and I'm not that great at close combat, but I have good accuracy when throwing." Finnick looked slightly impressed.

"Well that is an improvement." Finnick looked over at Amethyst who was standing outside her bedroom. He stuck his tongue out at her.  
>Sky smiled and I was unamused by it.<p>

"I am pretty sneaky. When I was younger I used to hide in different areas of my house and listen to my parents conversations." I said feeling more hopeful.

"I think that might be a useful skill." Finnick replied.

"Sky, you should try and work on your 1 on 1 knife skills," Finnick continued. "They give you a trainer to spar with if you ask for one. Practice your throwing a little, maybe that's what you'll want to show the Gamemakers as your skill."

"That sounds like something I can do." Sky said with a nod.

"Athan, I think your skill will be utilizing whatever is around you. My advice is for you to think of weapons that you could be skilled at using like a sword or sickle." Finnick said and I could tell he was trying help.

"Your fast movements and ability to hide anywhere could come in handy." Finnick said seriously.  
>Finnick stood up from his seat. "Also, I think you should become allies. You are like lovebirds. It is obvious both of you are shy, and I think you share some compatible strengths." Finnick said and then walked back into his room.<p>

I tried to process Finnick's words but it felt impossible.  
>Sky and I turned towards each other.<br>I cannot believe Finnick called Sky and I lovebirds. Just thinking about the word and Sky together, made me feel nervous. I noticing her blushing and I could not help but smile internally.

I want to be friends with her…

"So… do you want to be allies?" Sky blurted out, and I smiled slightly.

"Sure." I replied simply.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Sky <strong>(iluviggyhesthebest)

"Let's go then!" Amethyst urged the two of us as we approached the train, and almost literally pushed us on the vehicle.. I had never been on a train before, but I had rode a car one time….. this was much different however, since this was a Capitol production.

The inside of the train was clean, roomy, and comfortable looking. The walls were neatly polished, and the tables mahogany, and looked pretty expensive. Not to mention the giant buffet of food on the table. There was everything from what looked like smoked salmon to some bread filled with chocolate.

"There are extravagant bedrooms on the attached car for the two of you," Amethyst told us, pointing towards the back of the train. "And we'll eat later. First, you'll meet the fabulous Finnick Odair, your mentor. He'll be here in a few minutes.

Under Amethyst's disapproving eyes, Athan took a seat on a couch first, and I followed suit, sitting next to him, still not meeting his eyes. Amethyst then walked away, not interested in us. I guess she figured we were easy kills…

There was silence for a moment.

Then I heard "hi." His voice was quiet and timid sounding. I almost giggled.

"Hi," I replied, feeling a little timid myself.

Then there was silence again. I wanted to say something, but I didn't have much experience with starting conversations…Connie was my best and pretty much ONLY friend.

"So your last name is Ciel?" He finally asked, sounding curious.

"Yeah, why?" I questioned in reply.

"Well, in French, we learned that "Ciel" means "Sky"… so your name is Sky Sky?" He asked, looking a little amused.

I smiled a little. "Yeah, it is. You're not the first person to have asked me that." He was the 2nd. The first was my French teacher in school.

"I just wanted to make sure," he explained, and I nodded in understanding.

"Do you prefer to be called Skylar? Or Sky?" Athan questioned.

"Just Sky. Everyone calls me Sky," I answered immediately. Then something suddenly occurred to me… his last name was Cole… he was Native America, or at least half Native America, which was very rare in the Districts…

"Athan, is your dad Antone Cole? The rich fisherman guy?" I questioned, and he winced. I sort of felt bad for asking.

"Yes, Antone Cole is my father. He doesn't really want to let the public know I exist, I'm just a burden on him in his mind. My mom and dad have always viewed me as an irrelevant waste of time. They never celebrated my birthday or holidays with me, they'd just make some pathetic excuse to not spend time with me. Sometimes I feel like a ghost in my own home," He explained, looking a little angry. He paused for a moment.

"Now that I'm older, he wants to use me. He wants to teach me everything about the fishing company, so that I can own it one day," he said bitterly, his hands shaking.

I looked at him sympathetically. "And I guess you don't want to do that."

"I don't want any part of it," he reinforces his point. "I don't want to do anything involving my parents."

Instinctively, I launch myself forward and give him a hug, taking him by surprise.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I never had to go through that. I only had one friend, but he was the best friend anyone could ever have." He looked at me curiously as I softly pulled away.

"My brother, Connie," I told Athan. "He was like a father to me, my dad died when I was young and left me this hat, and my mom works 18 hours a day so I almost never see her. She didn't get to see me off, either. Connie… he was everything to me. My best friend. My dad. My chef." Athan smiled at this. "He makes me feel like a little kid, the way he protects me… but I sort of like feeling young. And god, I love him."

"He sounds great," Athan replied quietly, a small smile lighting up his face. "The only person who ever cared about me was my maid Carina. She was unable to have children herself, so I was sort of like the child she never had, but wanted to have. She was the closest thing to a mom for me." The smile grew as his eyes drooped a little, as he seemed to get lost in thought. I laughed. I was glad he at least had some good memories of home.

"I think I saw her at the reaping…" I thought out loud. "I thought she was your mom or something…"

"She's the reason I'm going to fight in these Games," Athan declared, looking a little determined. I smiled slightly in return.

"Connie… he was so broken up at the Reaping. I won't let him look like that ever again. I'm going to be strong in these Games for him." Neither of us mention that if the other wins, we have to die.

Athan opened his mouth, about to speak again, when a door opened loudly.  
>A teenager that was a few years older than me, with sandy blonde colored hair and tanned skin, walked into the room, a cocky smile on his face. He was wearing a white button down dress shirt like Athan, with black pants and boots. I wasn't denying that he was attractive, but the cocky smile on his face immediately made me want to slap him or something. He sat down across from us.<p>

"Ugh…" I internally thought, and Athan seemed to think the same, based on the look on his face.  
>Finnick looked us over.<p>

"It looks like I am going to lose my tributes quickly this year," He stated matter-of-factly. My eyes narrowed.

Athan frowned, open to give Finnick a piece of his mind, but Finnick raised a hand to silence him.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that the one with tousled hair is Athan, and the little girl over here name is Sky," Finnick smirked, challenging us to question him,

"My name is Sky. And I'm not a little girl, I'm 15 years old," I stated, narrowing my eyes.

Finnick cocked his head to the side. "Sure." He replied in an unamused way.

"Are you going to tell us how to win the games?" Athan questioned, obviously trying to change the subject.

Finnick looked annoyed. "I cannot tell you how to win the Games, but I can offer some tips."

"First, I need both of you to tell me your strengths."

"I can run and move pretty fast." Athan said bluntly.

"I know how to identify plants." I added.

I could tell Finnick wanted to laugh. "Clearly we are working with nothing."

"It's not nothing to me. Based on past Games that I've seen, it seems like a useful skill," I challenged him, nut breaking eye contact.

He looked amused. "So, you're going to use your skill to feed them to death?"

"Bloated tributes are slower," I answered immediately. "And I'm a fast runner as well, I've always had quick reflexes, and knives are my specialty, if I needed to have one. I've sparred with my brother a few times, and I'm not that great at close combat, but I have good accuracy when throwing." His eyes flickered; he looked slightly impressed.

"Well that is an improvement." Finnick looked over at Amethyst who had come back and was watching us, standing outside her bedroom. He playfully stuck his tongue out at her.  
>I smiled, but Athan seemed unamused.<p>

"I am pretty sneaky, I guess. When I was younger, I used to hide in different areas of my house and listen to my parents conversations." Athan added, sounding hopeful.

"I think that might be a useful skill." Finnick mused.

"Sky, you should try and work on your 1 on 1 knife skills," Finnick continued. "They give you a trainer to spar with if you ask for one. Practice your throwing a little, maybe that's what you'll want to show the Gamemakers as your skill."

"That sounds like something I can do." I nodded in agreement.

"Athan, I think your skill will be utilizing whatever is around you. My advice is for you to think of weapons that you could be skilled at using like a sword or sickle." Finnick suggested.

"Your fast movements and ability to hide anywhere could come in handy." Finnick continued seriously.

Finnick stood up from his seat. "Also, I think you should become allies. You are like lovebirds. It is obvious both of are shy, and I think you share some compatible strengths," Finnick finished, and then walked back into his bedroom. I wanted to digest everything Finnick said, but it felt impossible. Not to mention the fact that he called us "lovebirds"… I could already feel myself blushing, and I hope Athan didn't notice.

We turned towards each other at the same time. He confided in me… was nice to me…I want to be friends with him…

"So… do you want to be allies?" I blurted out, and he smiled slightly.  
>"Sure."<p> 


	17. District 6 Train Ride

**District Six Train Ride**

**POV: Wade Baxwell **(jul312)

The food is tempting, but I have more pressing matters on my mind. I'm definitely a deep thinker; I can't help but dwell on the more pressing matters, and I have a hard time letting things go. Fortunately, I'm a great actor, so Matrix believes me to be a charming young man excited to into the games and bring glory to his district.

Ha, yeah right.

"Darling, why don't you eat some of the stuffed duck?" Matrix pinches my cheeks before shoving a plate in my lap, which smells wonderful but looks a bit unusual. It almost makes me nauseous, but I manage to flash a toothy smile.

"No thanks, I had a big breakfast. I think I might even be too excited to eat anything." I lie through my teeth, but Matrix swoons. My mentor, Gretta, lets out a loud snort of amusement, but Matrix doesn't notice.

"Oh, of course! But well just make an even bigger dinner for you after the tribute parade!" The pink and glittery woman places a hand over her heart and bats her extremely long eyelashes. "Only the best for my tributes!"

She exits the car and my smile drops instantly. I know that she is the only one I'm fooling. The mentors and my district partner aren't as oblivious as Matrix. The thought makes me nervous, because I know my life relies on my ability to fools the Capital.

"Keep it up, Baxwell, and you won't have any problem getting sponsors." Gretta flashes me an honest smile from her place on the couch across the room. Her dark hair and olive skin tone reminds me of my mother, or, what I remember about her. They would be roughly the same age if my mother was still alive and had the same outspoken, brazen attitude.

Thoughts of my mother make me think of home, which makes me wonder how my dad and brother are doing. My mother died giving birth to Mitch, when I was about four. It was tough growing up without a mother, but we managed to turn out just fine. Mitch always blamed himself, even though he never had a chance to meet her. The insane guilt he felt whenever she was mention was something must run in the family, considering both my father and I feel the blame as well.

I lift my gaze from the plate on my lap, but Gretta had already turned toward the television when she didn't get an immediate answer from me.

"The playback of the Reapings are starting soon. I suggest you watch them." She leaves it open for me to decide, but her tone implies that I do as she says. The anthem begins to play on the screen and I make my decision. Setting down the plate on the table beside me, I move toward the couch and sit down next to my mentor.

I do a double take when I notice my district partner sitting on a chair next to the couch. I'm ashamed that I don't know her name, but I figure that I'll find it out sooner or later. With her blonde hair and bluish eyes, the girl resembles a younger version of my girlfriend.

My gut churns as I turn my attention back toward the television screen. The two people I will be spending the most time with just happen to look like my dead mother and my girlfriend that I will probably never see again.

The escort's voice from District One booms through the speakers and I jump up, startled, only to see that the girl beside me had done the same.

Gretta laughs, as if she has seen it happen multiple times before. The sound of her laugh brings warmth to my body, which quickly dissipates when I realize that she probably has seen it happen multiple times before. In fact, I could be sitting in the exact spot where a now dead tribute had sat last year. One look at my district partner's face let me know that she was thinking the same as me.

The middle aged brunette looks behind me and her smile widenes. "Hello, Brunel."

The old man who just walked into the train car places his hand on Gretta's shoulder, a rare smile lighting his face. "Hello, dear."

Something pointy jabs me in the shoulder. Matrix, who was so unusually quiet when entering the room that I didn't even know she was there.

After a moment or two of staring into her shockingly pink face, I get the message and help Brunel take my previous seat on the couch. The old man pats me on the shoulder, giving his thanks.

I pull up a chair beside my district partner and watch as the male takes his place on the stage. I had missed the girl volunteer, but from her bright and bubbly smile I figure that she is a bit of an airhead. I know not to judge my opponents before I have a better chance to observe them, but most tributes from District One are similar. Something about the male seems a little off, and I decide that I will pay close attention to him once we arrive in the Capital.

The District Two careers are a tad over confident, but seem like a force to be reckoned with. Obviously, considering they train most of their lives to kill people like me. District Three doesn't have any impressive looking tributes, but I know they all have killer brains. The boy seems nervous, but I put him down on my imaginary list of possible allies. He could be the brains, and I could be the brawn. I know that I will need allies to survive in the arena.

District Four does not have any volunteers, which is only slightly unusual. Although I consider them a Career district, they are not as strong as One and Two and do not always have volunteers. District Five does not have strong tributes this year, and I pity the district. Although the tributes from both Four and Five don't seem to be particularly threatening, I wouldn't doubt it if they had some secret skill.

Next comes District Six, my home. I find out the girl's name is Katherine. Shifting slightly in my seat, I look over to see her eyes watery as she watches herself on the screen. I feel slightly awkward and try to come up with something to say, but I hear my name called and I quickly turn around again to watch myself make my way up to the stage. I am relieved to see that I had handled myself well. Gretta gives me an approving nod, and I see the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Katherine lets out a strange squeak before shooting out of her chair, rushing across the floor and into the next train car. We sit in silence for a few moments before Brunel lets out a sigh and pulls himself up and off the couch. The door slides firmly shut behind him as he follows the path that Katherine took. I think how lucky we are to have mentors that haven't given in to drugs in order to get through years and years of watching their tributes die.

The remaining three of us simultaneously turn back to the screen. We had missed the calling of the tributes of District Seven, but I caught a quick glimpse of them on stage and felt sad to see that there was a young girl on stage.

The tributes from Eight and Nine are not interesting, except for the boy from eight who puked all over himself. I don't like how I'm thinking, considering people 'uninteresting' or 'not threatening'. It's inhumane to put labels on the other tributes, but at this point I know I need to let go of my humanity if I want to get home. Hopefully I seem to be some level of threat to the others. I don't want to be considered a bloodbath tribute, but I also don't want to draw to much attention to myself or put a target on my back.

Matrix lets out a gasp of shock as the boy from Ten brings a goat on stage, but me and Gretta share a look of amusement. His district partner seems a bit wacko, and I feel bad for the goat boy. I don't pay attention to the last few districts, which is a bad move on my part. I shouldn't under estimate my opponents, but it was hard to keep track of all the tributes.

The anthem plays, and the Reapings are finally over. Matrix leaves in a hurry, mumbling about the volume of her hair. One the car is silent, Gretta motions for me to sit on the chair across from her.

I can't get over how much she reminds me of my mother. Lost in thought, I don't realize she asked me a question until she began to wave her hand in front of my face.

"Sorry, ma'am. I got distracted. You…you look like my mother. Or, what she used to look like. I mean, never mind." I babble, looking out the window as trees pass by in a blur.

Her face softens, and she leans forward in her seat. "It's no problem, Wade. It's okay." She places a hand on my knee to stop me from rambling.

"Now, let's get down to business. We need to discuss allies, any and all skill you have, and your angle for the interview." I'm overwhelmed, but I force my brain to slow down. "I was thinking about having one or two allies, particularly someone with a brain. I'm strong and handy with tools, so that might help me pick up weaponry skills a bit faster. As for my interview angle, I'm pretty good at working crowds. I don't think I can pull off arrogance, but I can definitely be charming."

Gretta raises her eyebrow, and I notice how much more aged she looks up close. The wrinkle lines on her forehead and around her mouth portray years of worrying and anxiety.

"Good start, we'll continue in the morning." She pats my knee before standing up, stifling a yawn with her palm. I stand up alongside her, confused.

"We aren't going to discuss strategy, or anything?" I feel slightly disappointed as she makes her way to the door.

"Kid, you're way ahead of yourself. We'll have more time for that once we get in the Capital, and you might as well get some sleep while you can." The door silently slides open and she steps through. A moment later, she pokes her head back into the room.

"I can tell you're going to take the Capital by storm, Wade. District Six hasn't had a tribute as promising as you in a while." She winks at me before disappearing again.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Kathrine Bent <strong>(jul312)

_A/N: (Sorry if she seems a little bit different than the reaping, I'm taking over her character because the previous writer won't be able too.)_

My blue eyes take in everything the train has to offer, from the massive, velvet curtains to the huge buffet table in front of me. I grab the smallest size plate that was available, which wasn't very small at all, and take small samples of many different types of food. I take my place in a plush chair that was pulled up alongside the television, my plate on my lap. Wade's mentor, Gretta, was lounging on the couch next to me, watching her tribute flash his pearly white teeth at Matrix.

The beautiful, middle aged woman tries to cover her laugh as Wade turns down the food. The corners of my lips turn up as I nibble on my food, and I am surprised that I was even able to smile at a time like this. The food is delicious, and I am curious to know what exactly I am eating. Unfortunately, I don't have the courage to speak up, so I stay silent and poke at the mystery meat.

Gretta compliments Wade on his ability to charm the shit out of Matrix, and I almost resent him. Almost, because I don't think I can blame him for using his strengths to his advantage. The mentor and her tribute continue to talk, and I can't help but notice the similarities between the two. They are both extremely attractive, with tan skin and dark hair. Wade walks over to the couch, and I quickly avert my attention away from his face and back toward my almost empty plate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him study me, but I pretend I don't notice. Sooner or later I would have to talk to him, maybe even ally with him, but right now I can only focus on the rising bile in my throat as the anthem plays on the screen.  
>I definitely should not have eaten that food.<p>

The escort from District One has a surprisingly loud and screechy voice, and both Wade and I jump in surprise. We look at each other as Gretta laughs, and I wonder if he is also wondering if we were the first tributes to have done that.

My mentor, Brunel, finally enters the train car, with Matrix following behind. Wade gets up to give the old man his seat on the plush couch and finds a new spot on a wooden chair beside me. Brunel catches my eye and gives me a look. He doesn't smile much, but I can tell he is supporting me by the look in his eyes.

I'm not able to focus on the Reapings at all. I feel dizzy and nauseous, and I dread seeing my face on the screen. I must be getting pale, considering Matrix gives me a worried look. Our escort hasn't given me as much attention as Wade, but that is perfectly fine with me. By the time District Six comes around, all eyes are on me as I let out what was probably a sob and run as fast as I can out of the room.

When the door to my assigned room slides open a few minutes later, I am already face down on the gigantic bed, my head in between the pillows. Slow footsteps make their way over to the bed, and I figure it's Brunel since I don't hear the clicking of Matrix's heels. The bed dips down and a strong hand rubs my shoulder, comforting me as much as possible. Which isn't a lot.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you Kat," Brunel talks softly, his voice taking on a sad tone. "But if we want to get through this, I'm going to need you to work with me as best you can. You have to be strong. Can you do that for me?"

I nod in response, hoping he can tell from the back of my head because I wasn't showing my face anytime soon. Comfortable silence falls over the room, and I think about how lucky I am to have Brunel, as old as he may be. Even Matrix wasn't as bad as most of the other escorts.

"Get some sleep, Kat, and we'll have a long talk in the morning." The bed is suddenly high again as he gets up. On his way out he shuts off the lights, and I'm plunged into darkness.


	18. District 7 Train Ride

**District Seven Train**

**POV: Axle Oakley** (Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived) .

Shit.

Blye takes us onto the train, but as soon as we start climbing the steps, my district partner trips. I feel bad for her, so I reach a hand out for her.

"Rowan, are you okay?" I ask. She takes my hand and goes slightly pink.

"Yeah," she says. "I-I'm fine."

Blye looks mortified, as if Rowan missing a step will reflect badly on all of us. Whatever. I don't live to please the people in the Capitol. I make sure Rowan is steady on her feet, then walk her into the train. I watch as she takes in the atmosphere and whispers "Wow," under her breath.

She grins broadly as she takes in her surroundings, but composes herself after a second. She glances at me, then stands up straighter, making her face blank.

Blye tells us where to find our rooms, and since they're right across from each other, Rowan falls into step with me. I could be wrong, but I get the feeling that she might... I don't know, she might have a crush on me. She seemed pretty flustered when she took my hand. I hope that I'm wrong, though. The last thing I need is a shadow.

Rowan goes into her room, so I enter my own. Everything is designed to resemble trees or paper, which is kind of irritating since it's all I ever see. There's a desk pushed up against a wall, and there's a pencil and a notebook sitting on it. Most people would probably use it to write letters to their loved ones- in case they don't make it back. Since I'm a bit lacking in the "loved ones" category, I draw.

I draw the first thing that comes to mind. I draw myself, thrown into a pretty generic arena; a forest. I'm surrounded by trees. It's a decent drawing, but it's boring. It's missing something. I draw Rowan in behind me, following me around the arena.

I flip the page and begin a new drawing, one of just Rowan. I draw her from the shoulders up, exactly how she looked at the reaping when her name was called.

All of a sudden, Blye bursts into my room, without even knocking.

"It's time for you to meet your mentor," she says. "Get Robin, will you?"

"Do you mean Rowan?" I ask.

"Whatever her name is," she snaps. "Just get her."

Blye storms out, and once she's gone, I knock quietly on Rowan's door.

"Yes?" she calls.

"Blye wants us in the dining hall," I inform her.

"Okay," she says. She comes out of her room and we walk to the dining hall together. Once we get there, we're introduced to our mentors. Maple seems sweet, but Blight is noncommittal at best. He makes no effort to do anything but grunt and drink, so the entire meal is just the girls talking. If this is how the entire week is going to go, it'll be a long time until I can get into the arena.

Finally, I'm allowed to leave the table, and I go into my room and try to sleep. Eventually, I'm rudely interrupted by Blye, telling me to get ready for the Capitol.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Rowan Weisman<strong> (Evan-Gray)

Blye directs us to a large train and she steps inside. When I put my foot on the first step, I fall. My first day of Capitol luxury is on my face.

"Oh, Rowan, are you okay?" Axle asks, extending his arm down.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine…" I say, grabbing onto his plush hand.

I see Blye blushing and placing her face in her palms as if she's embarrassed of MY actions. Which she probably is, but I really don't care.

I step inside and scan the room from side to side then from up and down. "Wow," I mutter. My thirteen-year-old self wants me to run up and own the halls, but since Axle is here, I want to act more mature.

"Okay, find yourselves to your rooms. Axle, yours' in down the hall to the right and Rowan, yours' is down the hall to your left," She says, motioning her hand towards the hallway.

I follow Axle down the hall until I reach a big, metal door on the left. I open the door and walk inside. Inside contains a huge metal post bed; sheets designed to look like trees, and a television with a broadcast of previous games' winnings. I watch as the male tribute from District Six viscously mutilates the female tribute from 8. Gosh, I would hate to be murdered like that.

There is a soft knock on my door. "Yes?" I ask.

"Blye wants us in the dining hall," Axle shouts through the thick metal.

"Okay!" I shout back and head into the dining hall.

I see Blye sitting with a woman and man both in their early twenties. The man I recognize as Blight, winner of the 53rd Hunger Games with his dark brown hair and brown eyes. The woman I did not recognize.

"Rowan, Axle, these are your mentors. Blight and Maple," Blye says, motioning to the man and woman.

"Pleasure to meet you," Maple says, her light red hair hanging over her deep green eyes. Blight just grunts in agreement and takes a beer from the counter. "Okay, shall we talk about strategy?" Maple asks, grabbing my arm and taking me to the other side of the room.

We sit in plush, blue chairs and she stares into my eyes. "First of all, tell me about yourself," I look down.

"Okay. Well, my name is Rowan Weisman, I'm thirteen-" I am interrupted by Maple's sighing.

"Sorry, go on," She says.

"My older brother, Aspen, died in the 65th Hunger Games. I live with my mother and father. Nothing else is really that interesting," I say, placing my hands in my lap.

"Okay. Anyway…" For about a half hour, Maple talks to me about weapons, defining food, and survival skills.

"I think that's it for tonight," Maple yawns and walks towards her room with Blight.

I find my way to my room, slip on silk pajamas, and place my head on the pillow.

When I awaken, we had already arrived at the Capitol.

"Smile for the cameras," Blye says and we get off the train.


	19. District 9 Train Ride

**District Nine Train Ride**

**Denton Gibson's POV **(Lya200)

The train was one of the fanciest things I have ever seen. As we sped away from District 9 for the last time, I could barely take in my surroundings. The interior of the train consisted of technology I have never seen before. There were actual showers, not just a tiny makeshift tub like the one at home.

I just sat down on my bed watching the countryside as we zipped past it. This would be my last opportunity to look at it. I was not going back. No thirteen year old has won the games. Three years ago, we got our youngest victor. Finnick Odair of District 4 was only fourteen when he won. It was unlikely that the record would be broken again.

My mentor, Ceres, told me that they were replaying the reapings if I wanted to see them. Since I had nothing better to do, I followed him out.

District one had two volunteers this year. Again. The girl, Scarlett, a very confident sixteen year old, wasted no time in volunteering. She started talking about how she would be this year's victor. Very likely when you think about it. The guy kind of surprised me a little. He seemed like your typical eighteen year old volunteer, but he seemed really nervous. Aitou, I think his name was, was constantly looking around his surroundings.

Surprise, surprise. District 2's tributes were both volunteers. A preppy looking girl called Priscilla believed she will be a victor. I was reminded of the mayor's children. Probably a spoiled brat. The guy, Tommy, was yet another confident guy. Well, he wasn't as bad as Priscilla.

District 3 produces a fifteen year old boy and a sixteen year old girl. The girl was really pale. Her name sounded a little creepy. Nightshade. I was not sure if she had a last name. Tycho told the escort that he was alright, but he was stuttering. Somehow, though, he managed to hold back his tears.

District 4 was a big surprise. Almost every year, they have at least one volunteer. More often than not, two. So you can imagine everyone's shock that the tributes were both reaped. Never less, I wouldn't say that it was not interesting. When Skylar was reaped, a guy who I assumed was her brother followed her and actually fought some peacekeepers. One actually aimed his gun at him. It was the girl's scream that made the guy stop. The guy, Athan, looked at someone in the crowd then down at his feet. It will be a small career alliance.

The male reaped from 5 seemed blank. He was just hiding his real emotions. The girl, however, seemed happy? She was very ditzy as it seemed and stared at all those friends of hers expectantly as if she thought they should volunteer for her. When no one stepped up, she looked at them like they were traitors and had to be dragged onto the stage.

Wade from six flashed the camera a wide smile as he stepped up to the stage. He was obviously a likeable kind of guy. Before him, a fifteen year old girl named Katherine practically ignores the escort.

Seven brings a muscular seventeen year old boy and a small thirteen year old girl. My age. Nothing else really stood out about them.

District 8 was a little gross. When the guy's name was chosen, he vomited off to the side. The girl, Belle, refused to shake his puke-covered hand.

I zone out for my reaping because I already knew what happened.

I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing at what happened with District 10. An out-of-breath boy named Caspian ran up onto the stage holding a black lamb. Mud covered the front of his clothes. I tried to suppress my laughter. It was always good to have a little humor once in a while. A very optimistic girl named Raika was his district partner. While he was fearful, she was grinning ear to ear.

As much as I didn't want to, I had to get up to use the restroom during eleven's reaping, so I didn't catch what happened.

Finally District 12. A poor twelve year old kid becomes District 12's girl corpse, sorry, tribute. Being a tiny child from 12, I sincerely doubt she will make it past the bloodbath. Then again, I might not make it past the bloodbath myself. The boy, Brian, stood more of a chance than Claria. Still, since they are from 12, I don't think they will have a victor. The last time they had a victor was eighteen years ago. I was not even born yet.

Ceres shuts the TV off. "Well, what do you think?"

I would never say it aloud, but I think that seeing my competition sealed my fate.

* * *

><p><strong>POV: Gwenith Sitter<strong>_ (_Evan-Gray)

When I arrive on the train, Ceres pats me on the back. "There's a replaying of the reaping's if you'd like to see your competition," he says. I shake my head.

"Seriously?" Ceres asks.

"Yes! I have my reasons," I say. One, I'm hungry, and two, I need time to think about Harvey and since I saw Denton walk with Ceres, I have a feeling he will be watching the reaping's as well. I just don't think I could see Denton until I get a little more comfortable around him.

I grab a plate and head to the buffet. I grab all the food I can until the pile on my plate is at least an inch tall. I sit down at the table and just chow down on everything quickly. "Manners!" Our escort, Veridie, exclaims at me. She is very distinct looking. Dark blue hair, yes hair not a wig, ghostly white skin, thick gold eye shadow and lipstick, and 3 inch fingernails with diamonds printed on them. Once I finish all my food, in at least 2 minutes, my stomach starts to feel funny.

"Gwenie? You look like your going to be sick," Veridie says, trying to keep her distance.

"Shut up! Where's the bathroom?!" I shout at her. She points to across the hall and I run faster than I have before. Great, my first taste off good food and I'm throwing it up.

Veridie comes into the bathroom. "Oh, Gwenith. Uh, where's the air freshener?" And I just laugh when she says that. No 'Oh, are you okay. Well of course you are not, you are just blowing chunks and I'm just standing here trying to make my nostrils happy.'

Once I get all freshened up, I walk into the living room and see the reaping's of district seven. The girl is a frail thirteen-year-old and she has a girl standing next to her about to volunteer, but the girl stops her. "What's her name?" I ask Ceres.

"Rowan, I think," he replies and continues watching.

"Don't. You have more to live for," she says. I feel tears building up in my eyes. Am I seriously about to cry over thirteen-year-olds' words? Oh well. I just let them fall and Ceres just stares at me funny, but Denton hasn't even acknowledged my presence.

I get up and leave as soon as they announce the male.

"Axle Oakley!" I hear as I run to my room.

I just can't handle this anymore. I can't handle thirteen-year-olds'. Or freaky, self-centered escorts. Or even mentors who barley give you the time of day. I want to get out of here. I need to get out of here. But how?...

While trying to think, I end up falling asleep. Thank goodness, no dream. When I wake up, I head into the dining hall in what I wore yesterday.

"Dear heavens, you look terrible," Veridie says and all eyes are on me.

"Wow, you took the words right out of my mouth," I smirk

"Anyways, we'll be arriving soon," She says and leaves the dining hall. Huge buildings come into view.

"Wow," I whisper. This is the Capitol.


	20. District 11 Train Ride

**District 11 Train **

**POV:****Tilly**_" _(Sonamyloversega) .

I hate goodbyes. Lilly and Caleb ran up to me, their faces streaked with tears and more washing down.

''TILLY!'' They both screamed. I hugged them, half way wishing they weren't soaking my shirt with their tears.

''Hey, hey! I'm gonna be fine!'' I tried to reassure them.

''NO YOU'RE NOT!'' Lilly screamed. ''NOW YOU'RE GONNA DIE AND NO ONE'S GONNA TAKE CARE OF US!''

''Tilly's gonna die?" Caleb asked. ''I thought she was going to have to fight people and then come home...'' Lilly scowled. ''Idiot.'' I hit her softly. ''Be nice to your brother.'' Lilly shouted, ''YOU'RE NOT MY MOM!'' She sobbed. ''My mom is dead,'' and ran out of the room. I frowned. Caleb hugged me tightly. "Tilly, don't go. Fake it. Jump out of the train and stunt roll away for all I care! Just don't go.''

My vision became blurry. ''Caleb...Jacob will take care of you for the time being. Just...Please...Don't-don't forget me.'' I said, my voice shaking. I should be reassuring my brother, but I can't. Maybe it's because _I _need reassurance, too.

''Tilly?'' Jacob edges into the room. ''Lilly's pretty upset...Whoa. Private talk, I see, I'll go...''

''JACOB!'' I run up to him and hug him so tight he gasps for air and feels the need to tell me so, the big dummy. ''Tilly, I need oxygen!''

I laugh. ''What are you doing here?''

''You're my friend,'' He said, confused. ''Why wouldn't I?" I frown. ''Well, you're safe...Why would you care?'' I said. Jacob scowls. ''Tilly, we've known each other since the First Grade. We put glue in DJ Daniel's hair in Third, pelted the guy who beat me up in fourth with apples in the fifth, and pranked the mayor in the sixth. If you go, I go down too. Hypothetically.''

I laugh. ''DJ had to chop it all off.''

''That's what he gets for teasing you.'' Jacob smiled. ''Listen, Jay, whatever happens, take care of Lilly and Caleb.'' I say. Jacob glares at me and grips my shoulders. ''Stop being so pessimistic. Your Dad taught you how to use your knives for a reason, Tilly. A reason! You're not leaving me-I mean, your brother and sister.''

I didn't miss that slip. ''You said, ''You're not leaving me.'' **_me.''_**

''No I didn't. I said, your brother and sister.'' Jacob's face reddened.

''First you said me.''

Too soon, the guards throw them out. We're transferred to the train, and soon it begins on it's long journey to the Capitol. Chaff will be our mentor-Fun, fun. My district partner is this boy, Koring. I know him from school- He's not intolerable. I stuff my face with all kinds of exotic foods and drinks-I particularly like the thing called ''Coke'',- While Chaff chatters at me.

''You don't want to go for the good stuff, the Careers will sniff you out like police dogs. Lay low. And make makeshift liquor if you can.'' He chuckles. I left there, feeling my eyes beginning to water. I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking about Jacob specifically, and our kiss...

We were fourteen. It was the fall harvest, Jacob was up in the trees, throwing apples to me while I put them in the basket. Caleb and Lilly played tag. Jacob yelled, "Fire in the hole!" And a shower of fruit rained down. I nearly caught it all in the basket, but still managed to get hit in the head. "Ow!" I'd exclaimed.

"Sorry!" He climbed down and grinned at me. "I warned you."

"Oh, shush." I hit him. I walk over toward my siblings, who were searching for dropped apples to stuff in their coats for dinner. "Caleb, Lilly, let's go-OH!" I tripped over a tree root and went falling-apparently my particular brand of grace didn't apply to the "Great outdoors." Before I could bash my nose into my brain, however, Jacob grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

"How do you escape with all that food when you're always tripping?" He asked, his blue eyes dark and humorous.

"Shh!" I glared at him. "Do you want me to be arrested? You're such a-" Suddenly he pulled me in and pressed his lips to mine.

I resisted the urge to pull away and slap him; Not many people touched me and I wasn't used to this intensity. He pulled away, his face red and honestly cute. Arghh I'm SUCH A SOFTIE! Anyway, my face was most likely the same, as it was burning.

I woke up to the escort-I never learned her name...I think it starts with an E?- Banging on my door.

"Up, up! We've arrived!"

We've arrived?

We've arrived.


	21. District 12 Train Ride

**District 12 Train**

**POV: Brian Woods** (oddtom) .

As the train speeds along swiftly and silently toward the Capitol, we find ourselves face to face with District 12's own living legend. In my shock at getting reaped, I didn't get a good look at him during the reaping ceremony, but now that I find myself sitting across from the legendary Haymitch Abernathy, I feel somewhat giddy and can't help but gushing to my hero.

"I can't believe I am actually getting to meet you! I've seen your Quarter Quell- they show it to us every year in school during the reaping- you were amazing!"

Haymitch, who has just filled a flask with whiskey, downs it, then raises his eyebrow at me, amused. "Is that the crap they're teaching in schools now?"

I shake my head in wonder. "I'm gonna play it just like you did. The way you took out those three careers with that knife!" I swing my arms through the air in stabbing motions, recalling the epic fight scene from the 50th Hunger Games.

"No." He slams his now empty shot glass onto the table and looks squarely at me. "I got lucky. That is all. I should be dead right now." He sits up and looks at me solemnly. "You want to know how do die? Pick a fight with the careers. That'll do it." He pours another shot glass of whiskey and leans back in his chair.

This is not quite what I had expected from District 12's greatest hero, and his stubbornness is beginning to annoy me. I stand up, now finding myself yelling to get his attention. "I can fight! You think it was easy being a seam kid in the merchant schools? I've had to fight practically every day!"

Haymitch just sighs at me, as if he has to put up with this every year. He throws back the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass down with a clatter before responding. "You think that is anything compared to what those kids will do to you? They've been training their whole lives on how to kill you. You think a few measly fistfights in the seam will save you?"

He stares at me down, and I stare back at him, determined to show this drunk that I'm not the average District 12 tribute. I am not to be trifled with. After a while, he sighs heavily and grabs a butter knife from the table before standing up. He takes a few steps toward the door, then turns to face me. "You think you have what it takes? Then show me. Take the knife out of my hand."

I stare at him dumbfounded. Here was the victor of the second Quarter Quell- the only victor from District 12- challenging me to a fight. He gruffly taunts me, "What's the problem? If you think you can handle the careers, then taking an old man should be nothing. Come on, what are you waiting for? Do you think the careers will give you time to think about it?"

He's right, and I steel myself, determined to show him that I can fight. I know I'm stronger than him, and I plan to use this to my advantage.

With this in mind, I charge him.

At the last second, he kicks a chair in front of me, and I stumble on it. I take an extra step to catch my balance, but he has already grabbed me. Before I even realize what's going on, he has me pinned to the train floor, the dull edge of the butter knife now pressing into my neck.

I struggle to get out, but his grip is strong. I yell out in indignation, "That wasn't fair! Let's do it again! Come on!"

Now on top of me, pinning me down, he hisses in my ear, and I can smell the rancid odor of whiskey on his breath. "You think they are going to play fair? You think they're going to give you a second chance?"

The knife is jammed so hard into my throat that my voice comes out in a croak. "Ok, you win. I get it."

"No", his rancid breath is making me queasy. "You don't."

At that moment, I hear the door open, then close, as someone walks in.

Upon seeing me pinned, Claria immediately jumps in to protest. "Stop fighting! We'll have enough of that in the arena!"

Haymitch stares at her for a moment, then he retracts the knife and lets me fall to the floor. I slowly get up, and find a spot on the couch. Claria plops down next to me.

Haymitch takes a moment to down the remainder of his flask of whiskey, then dryly states, "When they show you the games, do they include the part where I get cut in half?" He waits for a response, but neither of us say anything, so he continues. "They don't make a big deal about that, do they? No, they only glorify the parts they want you to see; you don't get to see what the games are actually like."

He sits back in his chair, continuing, "Look, I've been there. I know what it's like. You're a fighter- that's good- but don't go looking for a fight. Don't worry, if you do happen to survive long enough, the fights will come to you."

He gives me another mock charming smile. He thinks about pouring another shot from the glass, but, after consideration, instead tips back the entire flask of whiskey.

"What about allies?", I interrupt him.

He lowers the flask and shrugs. "I suppose you're welcome to spend the rest of your life with whomever you choose."

I sit up, and address him with an idea that has just sprung to my mind "What if I made my own pack?"

He suddenly laughs, spewing out part of the whiskey he had just started drinking. "What? You and the little princess over there?" He point a finger to the two of us alternatively. "Yea, unstoppable, you two." He laughs again, and finished the entire flask before slamming it down again.

I look at him with disdain, explaining my idea. "Well, the careers always win because they have a pack, right? Well the other tributes outnumber the careers four to one. What if we convinced all the other tributes to gang up on the..."

Haymitch bursts out into another round of guffawing laughter, and I am forced to hold my tongue until the noise abates. By the end, he is holding his stomach and wiping tears out of his eyes. "If you think you can single-handedly bring together 9 different cultures in three days, you are welcome to try, but I can already tell you the outcome." He is still smiling at me, or at my idea, rather, as he reaches again for the flask, which he is surprised to find is now empty.

Seeing that his alcohol supply has run dry, he stands up and opens the door to his sleeper car. "Maybe I can make it all the way to the Capitol before the headaches kick in", he mumbles to himself as he stumbles through the door and closes it behind him.


End file.
